Dreaming of You
by newtmazer
Summary: Sometimes dreams can stir up the dearest wishes of our hearts. When Newt starts dreaming of the Glade's newest Greenie, he has to come to terms with a variety of feelings that aren't all that easy to tame. Newt/Thomas, includes also a bit of Newt/Alby.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story has been forming on my mind for months and months. Basically I've always thought Newt and Thomas didn't get enough time together in the Glade and then I decided to give them that. Time.

Please note that the story is rated **M** for several mature themes.

Feedback would be more than appreciated!

Here we go, then. Enjoy!

* * *

_Woke up sweating from a dream_

_With a different kind of feeling_

The wind carried the sound of a tiny crack to Newt's ears. It sounded as if a twig had snapped under a step. The blond-haired boy whirled around, his eyes scanning the forest around him. It was silent, almost too silent. The faint light of the early evening barely made its way through the thick foliage overhead. Newt furrowed, confused, but after a while of standing still and observing, he turned back towards where he was heading, starting to walk forward with more hesitant steps.

He passed several large trees until he heard the voice again. This time he was sure it came behind him – and much closer. Newt turned on his heels again and startled as he saw a figure – a very familiar one – right there.

"What the bloody- _Tommy?_" Newt stared at the dark-haired boy with a surprise clear on his face, taking an involuntary step back.

Thomas stood only about a few yards away. _How did he manage to move almost without a bloody sound so fast? _He was looking at Newt with such intensity in his eyes it took Newt's breath away.

The Greenie was clothed as usual, the sleeves of his pale blue shirt rolled up to his elbows. His stance was rigid somehow, his fingers itching slightly, and _what is that look in his eyes?_

As Newt frowned again, Thomas licked his lips and finally said with a strangely husky voice, "Newt, I was looking for you."

"Well, here I am. What'd you need me for, then, Tommy?" Newt asked, crossing his arms, feeling a bit uneasy now. A sliver of worry flickered in the pit of his stomach.

Slowly Thomas took a tiny step forward, closer to Newt, never taking his eyes off of the older boy.

"I had.. something important on my mind," Thomas said quietly, taking another step forward.

Newt swallowed hard without really knowing why. He stood still, as if frozen to the spot, watching Thomas's every move closely.

"I'm.. listening," Newt said, his voice a bit strained now. As Thomas got closer to him, he felt himself stepping back, his heel hitting the bark of a tree. _How did that buggerin' tree come so close?_

"Why do you back away from me, Newt?" Thomas whispered. He was so close now that Newt heard him clearly even though his voice was quiet and low.

"I-I'm not- Tommy, what are-" Newt tried, but stopped short as he felt a finger press against his lips. Newt's eyes widened a bit and he took a quick intake of breath as he stared into Thomas's stormy eyes. They were only inches apart from his own.

"Shh.. Newt.. I really like it when you call me Tommy, you knew that?" Thomas's lips curled into a devilish smirk and his hazel eyes burned as his voice whispered the words.

Newt moved his lips slightly, shocked by Tommy's words and his acts. He tried to wrap his mind around what was happening, but he couldn't – and then Thomas brushed his lips with his thumb, his gaze lowering to where his finger was resting.

Newt's heart was pounding fast in his chest and some wild, strong emotion was unfurling low in his belly. His lips tingled under Thomas's touch and his breathing started to grow heavy. _What.. what is this?_

Thomas began to lean closer ever so slowly, slipping his other hand to the side of Newt's neck, caressing it gently under his touch. Newt's eyes fell shut at the sensation. This was unlike everything he'd ever experienced before. The touch was simple, but so intimate somehow, and it was slowly but surely driving him crazy.

Their bodies were almost touching now. Newt's hands were shaking uselessly by his sides. Thomas was so, so close.. And then he felt a brush of lips on his ear. Thomas's lips sucked his earlobe lightly, his hot breath fanning over his skin. Newt felt as if his whole body was on fire, he was shaking and a quiet moan escaped his lips. He couldn't understand what this all was about, but he couldn't have cared less about the _why _at the moment, as long as Thomas kept touching him.

"How do you feel, Newt? How do I make you feel?" Thomas sighed into his ear. His lips left a trail of tiny, slow pecks along his jaw and Newt strained his neck to the side slightly to give him more room to play with.

"I-ah-Thhomas-" Newt breathed weakly, his skin heavy with sensations.

Thomas pulled his lips away from Newt's skin, staying at a close proximity. As Newt slowly opened his heavy eyelids, he found himself lost in the hazel-coloured, burning irises. His breath stuttered in his chest as Thomas's hand moved to thread itself in Newt's hair on the side of his head.

"My.. Tommy," Newt whispered. Thomas's eyes seemed to flare into an even brighter fire at that and suddenly his lips were swallowing his own hungrily.

Newt's eyes closed shut as he felt his back slam to the bark of the tree behind him. His hands found their way to Thomas's body, his fingers exploring his strong sides, moving along his back as Thomas kissed him with such fierceness that was sure to bruise his lips. Not that Newt minded in the least.

Their bodies pressed tightly together. Thomas savoured Newt's mouth earnestly, his hands buried in Newt's hair, pulling it at times. Their kiss was almost desperate, it burned like a bright fire, hot and dangerous. They clung to each other, gasping into each other's mouths and Newt felt like his world was going to explode.

That was, until he felt Thomas's hands lower on his body, one of his hands coming lower and lower until it descended right on top of his hardened front, squeezing lightly.

Newt's eyes snapped open at the contact that sent waves and waves of unexpected pleasure, dizziness and desire wash through his entire body. The emotion was so strong that he felt something shatter inside himself, and somehow his whole sight started to spin, faster and faster. He tried calling out to Thomas as his touch started to distance itself from him, his figure blurring before him, the whole world spinning, spinning, spinning..

*.*.*

Newt bolted upright in a flash. His whole body was covered in sweat and he was breathing hard, as if he had just run a marathon. His eyes scanned the dark room wildly, trying to make sense of what was going on. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he realised that he was inside the Homestead, on his very own bed. He eased his tightened fists from the sheets that were tangled in his legs and stuck his hands in his hair, shaking his head in order to make sense of things.

He had dreamed. Of _Thomas._ Dreamed a very vivid dream indeed. A bright flush rose to his cheeks at the mere thought of it and a strange emotion churned in his stomach. _What the bloody-_

At that moment, he became conscious of another sensation. He had this sticky, wet feeling just under the waistline of his trousers..

Newt moaned aloud. "Oh for the love of-"

The flush on Newt's cheeks burned even hotter now, if that was even possible. His insides felt all tense and his mind was one jumbled mess. He wiped his face with his hands, groaning.

He had just had a very passionate dream of the Glade's newest Greenie. And he had come straight in his pants by the thought of making out with him.

He was so shucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the lovely feedback of chapter 1! This is my first ever chaptered fic and I appreciate every single word I receive from my readers. Please let me know what you think!

Let's continue with chapter 2, then. Enjoy!

* * *

_You're in my veins _

_And I cannot get you out_

Newt jumped out of his bed, his hands still shaking. He walked over to the other side of the room and rummaged through the small chest of drawers which held most of his wardrobe. Over the years it hadn't grown much but it was all he needed, anyway. He snatched a clean pair of underwear, sand-coloured trousers and a white tank top from the bottom drawer and changed, putting on his shoes right after.

It was still early, which Newt preferred as he gathered his ruined pants and some other pieces of his dirty clothing from the drawers. Not too many eager eyes would be looking after his activities in the laundry room. He hugged the messy heap of clothes against his chest and headed for the door.

Just as he was twisting the handle to open the door, someone from the other side of it pushed it wide open. Startled, Newt yelped and stepped back with wide eyes.

Alby, his hand still on the door knob, looked about as taken aback as Newt. The dark-skinned boy opened and closed his mouth a few times. Then he straightened and cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck absently.

Newt got himself together quicker. "Alby, why were you creeping behind my bloody door like that?"

Alby looked a bit embarrassed for a second before a slight smile spread over his face.

"Well, I was just gonna come and see if you're already awake. It's been busy last couple of days and I have barely seen you these days.." Alby's gaze lowered to the clothes Newt was holding close. "What were you planning to do with those, huh?"

Newt scowled, puffing air out of his lungs and wishing the slight blush that still coloured his cheeks wouldn't stood out too noticeably. "What does it bloody look like?" Newt muttered, a bit annoyed. "Man's gotta wash his clothes from time to time. Gonna carry these to the laundry and get the washing over with."

Alby took a step closer, lowering his hand to rest on Newt's arm, squeezing it. "I could take care of those for you, ya know. That way we could have the time to start this day off quite pleasantly, don't you think?" Alby whispered suggestively, looking Newt in the eyes.

Newt shivered but not out of pleasure. Somehow Alby's touch felt cold, possessive. Newt frowned and took a step back, letting Alby's hand hover alone in the air for a while before the boy pulled it back, a look of hurt flashing across his features quickly before disappearing.

"Is something wrong, Newt?" Alby asked, an odd expression on his face.

Newt swallowed quickly, adjusting the clothes better in his lap. He shook his head slightly, forcing a smile on his lips that he hoped looked at least half as reassuring as he intended.

"Sure, Alby, I'm as good as ever. It's just.. lots to do today. And you know I can't stand anyone else taking care of my own things," Newt pointed out. "I'll catch up later with ya, deal?"

The older boy looked at him with searching eyes but in the end seemed to give up. He nodded, stepped aside and let Newt hurry past him. As the slightly limping boy scurried down the stairs, Alby couldn't help but look after him, wondering what was going on in that blonde head of his.

*.*.*

Newt's head truly was a mess. The boy crouched beside a huge bucket full of soap and water, kneading his dirty clothing furiously with his hands. He felt mortified that Alby had almost walked in on him like that. He knew the boy had only meant good as usual. They had both truly been busy lately and it felt like forever since they had spent some time together.

Something had changed after the newest Greenie had arrived. Thomas wasn't like those other winy, lost and scared Newbies. He wasn't anything like Newt had been during his first days in the Glade. It had taken a very long time before Newt had felt like he could trust a soul in there. He had isolated himself, crept in the shadows, hadn't talked to anyone and kept everyone away. He still got shivers remembering those dark, lonely few weeks when he had cried himself to sleep, hiding in the woods.

Newt had grown so much since those days. Alby had been the first person in the Glade to get close enough to coax him out of his shell, little by little. Slowly Newt had started to find himself again, to create bonds with the Gladers and start to think of them as a family of sort. There were still parts of him that he would never show to anybody, parts that he would protect from everyone. He didn't put his trust on people blindly. In fact, he considered very few people in the Glade close enough to call them his friends. He had grown to be a person that the others looked up to, a steady rock the other Gladers could seek support from and trust him to stay calm and keep things in order no matter what happened. But his heart was one thing he didn't open up to just anyone.

Thomas wasn't anything like Newt had been in his situation. During his first day, yes, Thomas had been lost, freaking out and scared. But just overnight the boy's whole attitude had changed. He had started to question things more than almost any other Greenie Newt had crossed paths with. His curiosity, his thirst to just _know things_ was insatiable. He was actively putting his mind to work, to doubt, to figure things out, to make sense of everything. He was already one of the smartest and brightest minds Newt had ever met. Thomas was brave and loyal, witty and independent. He worked hard no matter what they made him do; he wanted to prove himself constantly even if the job itself would be the lowest on his list of how to spend his time. But by no means was Thomas submissive. He had extremely strong opinions and he would not be easily swayed when he got his mind on something. But still he wasn't-

The unmistakable sound of shower spray hitting the stone tiles pierced Newt's ears, cutting his wandering thoughts abruptly. Newt shook his head, blinking his eyes back to focus. How long had he stayed like this, just staring into nothingness, oblivious to the world around him? His hands had stopped their movements, the water feeling cold against his skin.

Newt straightened and decided to make a quick job with the rest of the washing. He had waisted enough bloody time. He felt his ears burn as he wondered how easily his mind always slipped back to Thomas these days.

He hurried to change the dirty water and rinsed the washed clothes. He hoped to clear out of the place before the unidentified, poor Glader would burst out naked from the showers. He surely didn't need that image glued to the back of his eyelids.

Right then a new voice drifted from the showers, freezing Newt to the spot. His eyes widened from shock as the somewhat muffled sounds of human moans broke the steady sound of spraying water. There was no mistaking what kind of activity caused those low groans that filled Newt's ears and made the room feel suddenly hotter than before.

As the groans gradually grew more frequent, Newt felt his own pulse accelerating. His pants started to feel a bit too tight and he groaned low in his throat, cursing his bloody luck. This couldn't be happening.

It didn't take long as the last and loudest moan by far was heard from the neighbouring room. Newt felt extremely uncomfortable by the whole situation but something – he had no buggerin' clue as to what – held him glued to the spot, the bucket full of washed clothes shaking in his hands. There was something in that voice, something that was almost, distantly, familiar..

Suddenly the shower quieted. The silence that followed snapped Newt finally out of his daze - _What the bloody hell is happening to me? _and he rushed toward the door leading out of the laundry room. Just as he was about to push the door open, though, there was another voice, calling out to him and once again freezing him to the spot. Newt felt his heart skip a beat as he immediately recognized the owner of the voice. A shiver ran down his spine.

"_Newt?_"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hello again! I've been pretty busy lately and I was initially planning on updating earlier but here I am with chapter 3 now! Thank you for your reviews again, keep them coming! Nothing makes me happier than hearing your thoughts (except maybe newtmas).

I also added a cover image for my story. I've never done anything much with photos but I wanted my story to have one so I decided to try something out.. What do you think about it?

Now, enjoy!

* * *

_I think I might've inhaled you_

_I can feel you behind my eyes_

Newt turned around slowly. As his eyes descended on the figure before him, he felt the air leave his lungs in a shuddering breath.

Thomas was standing at the doorway leading to the showers, steamy air drifting from the room behind him. All over his tanned skin droplets of water were traveling down his body. A white towel was hanging low on his hips, his other hand holding it in place just below his hipbone. The muscles on his stomach and chest were moving slightly as the boy was breathing a bit faster than normal.

Little by little, Newt raised his gaze to the boy's face, swallowing hard. Thomas's dark hair was even darker as it was still wet from the shower and the nearly black locks were curled a bit. Thomas was looking straight at him, his lips parted slightly, a mortified expression on his beautiful, open face.

All the thoughts had cleared out of Newt's head. He was completely fascinated by the sight before his eyes. Fascinated.. and turned on as hell.

"Newt?" Thomas said his name again. "W-what - When did you get in here? I swear I didn't know anyone would be here at this time and it was so quiet-" His words were rushed and as he spoke his cheeks started to flush.

Newt cleared his throat trying get rid of the lump that had appeared there just minutes ago, making his voice hoarse. "I was here all the bloody time! I didn't hear you coming in either except when you started runnin' the water. Why were you showering so bloody early, anyway? No one does that."

Thomas ran a hand through his wet hair, letting it stick out of his head a bit. Newt couldn't help but notice the slight tremble in his muscles as he moved.

"Well, I've noticed you shanks like to sleep till the last minute before you're made to wake up, so I decided to use that as an advantage. I prefer to shower in peace and not have to queue all night long, anyway.." Thomas's voice quieted toward the end of his sentence, adjusting the towel better to his hips. Newt's gaze was immediately drawn to the movement but he quickly corrected himself, staring back into those hazel eyes before making things even more awkward for both of them.

"Well, I guess that's.. sane." Newt really had to leave until he did something stupid. It was getting harder and harder to stay still by every passing second as the mix of hot, steamy air and the scent of Thomas were flooding his senses.

"Anyway, I should get going. Gonna get these to dry nice n' clean," Newt muttered quickly. He moved the bucket in his hands a bit awkwardly, holding it tightly in place to hide his lower body and the bulge in his trousers before meeting Thomas's eyes once again. "You're gonna help Frypan in the kitchen today, aren't you, Greenie?"

"Good that," Thomas nodded, biting his lip.

Newt shivered at the gesture, shaking his head and starting to turn around and leave the scene, finally. "Good that. Alright.. See ya around, Tommy!"

"Newt! Wait!"

Newt stopped his movements, his hand already grasping the door handle. He closed his eyes and tried to stay calm.

"Yes, Tommy?" He didn't dare to turn around.

"I just- uh- I was just wondering.. you didn't hear anything, did you? Uh- earlier?"

There was the tiniest tremor in the younger boy's voice as he said those words. Newt felt his heart pounding hard against his ribs.

"No, Tommy, I-.. Just.. water." And then Newt couldn't stand it any longer. He rushed out of the door and closed it hastily behind him. He leaned his back against it, letting out a huge breath, groaning.

The day was just getting better and better.

*.*.*

Newt made his mission to keep himself as busy as possible. He stomped around the Glade helping the other boys out here and there. Everywhere else but in the kitchen. He had made a mental note to stay as far away from the kitchen as possible. He had even skipped meals because he really didn't want to see Thomas right now. Inside his head a tiny voice kept scolding him for being stupid and acting like a bloody child but his legs simply refused to go anywhere near those corners.

The arrival of the weekly supplies in the afternoon stopped the normal schedule of the day for good few hours. The ear-splitting voice of the alarm called the Gladers to gather around the Box, waiting for the lift to arrive and to finally shut the voice down. Newt kept glancing around him and as it came clear that Frypan and the cooks would stay in the kitchen as they often did (it would soon be dinner time anyway), he couldn't help feeling immensely relieved but inexplicably disappointed at the same time. He was safe from running into Thomas for now.

Finally the horrible howl quieted and was replaced by the familiar voices of the lift arriving to the top with clicks and stutters. Newt nodded for a couple of boys who tore the doors of the Box open together, revealing the lift with its contents.

There was nothing unusual about the supplies they got this week, Newt noted. Food, some wood, new pairs of shoes, soap, some other things they'd asked and the Creators had been willing to give, etc. Newt started to bark orders for the boys to pick up the stuff and carry them where they belonged.

Slowly but surely the Box started to drain out of supplies. As Newt was gesturing to one of the boys to take the flour sacks to the kitchen, he noticed movement at the corner of his eye. He turned his head just in time to see a blond-haired, strongly muscled boy hovering over a basket full of Med-jack's equipment and slipping something in his pocket. Newt felt familiar irritation tugging at the edges of his mind.

"Ben, you bloody shank! How many times have I talked to your shuck head about this?" Newt yelled to the boy, stepping closer to the edge of the Box.

The boy in question whirled around, looking up at Newt. A wicked smile started to spread on his face. "What are you yapping about, Newt? I'm only doing what I'm told, saving your sore ass from the dirty work and getting the supplies delivered," he said with a mocking grin, lifting the basket to his lap.

Newt felt the fury get the better of him. "How dare you lie straight to my face, you filthy little-"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic! It's only one bottle, there's another one for Med-jacks as well. It's no big deal," Ben interrupted. His smile was full of arrogance.

Newt's gaze turned murderous and he lowered himself, jumping down to the Box, next to Ben.

"I told you once, don't test me, Ben. I won't say it again. Empty your pockets. Now," Newt said a warning and a threat clear in his voice.

Ben turned to face him fully, staring back with defiance. He was just about to snark straight back when another, deeper voice interrupted him from above.

"What's going on here?"

Both boys looked up at Alby who was standing at the edge of the Box, glaring at them with his arms crossed over his chest, muscles bulging under his shirt.

"Nothing," Ben smiled. "Newt's just being his lovely, cheery self as usual. Alby, you should take better care of your," Ben winked at Newt, "_friends _and their _needs_."

Newt's eyes widened with rage but right then Ben started to climb out of the Box without another word. As he rose to the ground next to Alby, however, the dark-skinned boy took hold of his arm, stopping him. Ben rolled his eyes and took the bottle of alcohol from his hoodie pocket, slamming it to Alby's hand. Alby let him go but kept looking after him with narrowed, doubtful eyes.

After the boy was gone, Newt started to rise out of the lift himself. When he was standing next to Alby, the boy grasped his shoulder, making Newt face him. Newt glanced at Alby's hand before raising his troubled eyes to Alby's.

"Newt, are you sure you're ok? What was that about down there?" Alby asked him with worry clear on his face.

Newt scowled after the retreating Builder, many yards away now. "I'm bloody fine, Alby! The slinthead was just being an arrogant shuck as usual. That bloody shank doesn't know when to shut his hole. Can't keep to his own buggerin' business, always snooping where he bloody shouldn't," he spat venomously.

"Come on, you know how Ben's been lately. Nothing new there. Honestly, what's going on with you? You're tight as a wire these days," Alby frowned at him, moving his hand lower to Newt's bicep.

Again something cold shivered down Newt's skin at Alby's touch. He figured Alby had a point though.

"It's nothing, just sleeping badly. Nothin' to worry about," he mumbled. Unconsciously his gaze swept over the kitchen corners, an unreadable expression flashing across his face which didn't escape unnoticed under Alby's eyes.

"I could give you company, Newt. Help you sleep better. All you have to do is ask, you know that, right?" Alby whispered, raising his hand to sweep his fingers across Newt's cheek lightly.

With a slight bolt Newt stepped back, a small step but one that made the hurt expression appear in Alby's eyes again, longer this time. Newt swallowed and avoided the other boy's eyes.

"I know, Alby, sure. But I.. I think it's not a good idea. Sleeping with someone has never made a difference before, you know that," he said, a bit embarrassed now, but certain of his words.

Alby looked at him, quiet, for a long time. In the end he let out a deep breath, shaking his head slightly.

"Yeah, well, if you say so. I'll.. go on from here. Take a break or, something," he muttered with a low voice, turning around and walking off toward the group of approaching Gladers.

Newt stared after him for a while, wondering what the hell Alby must be thinking about him these days. He couldn't blame the boy though. He hardly knew what to think of himself, either.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Hey there! I wish you all had a good weekend! Here's chapter 4 for you, keep letting me know your thoughts! Enjoy!

* * *

_There's so many things I wanna say  
But there's too many things still in the way _

Few hours later, after the Doors had sealed shut, Newt made his way to the Homestead, holding his dry and clean laundry in his hands. The place was starting to fill up, the Gladers having almost finished their work of the day. Newt nodded to a few boys in acknowledgement as he climbed the stairs to the first floor of the messy construction.

He opened the door leading to his room and closed it shut behind him. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Slowly he walked to his bed and sat on top of the mattress, dumping the clean clothes in a heap next to him.

Then a hesitant knock at the door pierced the silence of the room. Newt went rigid and frowned, confused. Wondering who it would be and fearing the worst, he got up and walked to the door, throwing it open.

Newt's eyes widened a bit. "Tommy?" he croaked, utterly taken aback by the boy's appearance.

Thomas stared at him, looking more or less out of place, before clearing his throat and slightly raising his hand which was grasped around a small paper bag.

"Yeah.." Thomas murmured, biting his lip in a nervous manner.

Newt adjusted himself to lean on the doorframe, crossing his arms lightly over his chest. "What are you doing here?" he asked a bit in wonder.

Thomas shifted awkwardly from foot to foot before answering, raising his eyes to meet Newt's. "Well, you didn't show up at dinner. Nor lunch. Nor.. breakfast, I guess, either. I gathered you'd be hungry by now, so I grabbed you something from the kitchen and brought it, then. Here," Thomas held the bag to him, avoiding his eyes now.

Newt glanced between the bag and the boy, even more taken aback now. His stomach made a loud grumbling noise right then and there. He _was_ hungry. "Uh, thanks, Greenie," he said, taking the bag from the boy. Thomas flashed a small smile and looked a bit lost at what to do next but then Newt opened his mouth again, surprising them both.

"Hey, you could come in if you want," Newt blurted out.

_What the hell did I just do?_

Newt could hear the hitch of breath Thomas took in at Newt's words and the way his body stilled. Newt swallowed hard.

Thomas was quiet for a while, staring into Newt's dark brown eyes. Then he turned his head slightly, avoiding Newt's eyes again.

"I-I have to go back to the kitchen. Frypan's orders. I didn't finish the dishes yet," Thomas explained hastily, trying to ease his words with a smile that seemed forced to Newt.

Newt couldn't help feeling a pang of disappointment and _hurt _wash through him. He blinked, confused by both Thomas's words and his own reaction to them but then got a grip of himself and answered, "Oh, yeah, sure. Work before all else, right?" He flashed a forced smile himself, starting to close the door again. "Enjoy yourself, Tommy."

Thomas twitched visibly at his words and looked as if he was about to say something but the door before him was already closed.

Newt listened on the other side of the door, his heart pounding loud in his chest. It took a while but in the end he heard Thomas's steps walking down the stairs.

Newt walked back to his bed, sitting down and leaning his elbows to his knees, burying his hands into his hair in frustration. His whole body suddenly felt so empty and his chest was inexplicably tight.

_What the hell is happening to me?_

*.*.*

It was dark and only the faint light of the moon illuminated the simple, small room lightly. Newt stared out of the window, his head resting on his pillow, his other hand tucked under it. It was so calm, so quiet..

Suddenly the bed under him shifted, as if another body had settled beside him. Newt turned his head around fast and felt breath leave his lungs as his eyes registered the moon-lit features of the boy next to him.

"_Tommy?_" he stuttered. "What- _How-_"

A smile started to spread slowly on Thomas's lips. He looked ravishing in the moonlight; his dark hair was almost black and his white shirt had rode up revealing the smooth skin of his stomach. The boy was lying on his side and leaning to the bed with his elbow.

"Always so questioning, aren't you, Newt?" Thomas murmured, starting to slide his hand over the narrow space between them. As his warm fingers found Newt's waist, sliding over his stomach and splaying over his hip, Newt's eyes closed shut and he sighed with pleasure. Such a small gesture but it was as if his skin was overly sensitive to Thomas's hands, every touch magnified.

"I-ah just wanna-" Newt mumbled as Thomas started to move his hand up his body, lifting his shirt higher as it slid over his side, brushing his nipple with his thumb, making Newt swallow and moan at the sensation, "know h-how you always manage to – ahh – sneak up on me-"

Thomas moved quickly, pushing Newt to his back, climbing to straddle his waist, both his hands resting on Newt's bare sides. Newt opened his eyes, taken by surprise, a breath escaping his lungs again. Thomas leaned over him, his lips descending on his jaw, starting to leave a trail of kisses there. Newt moaned under him and his hands finally found Thomas's body, slipping under his shirt to touch the muscles that quivered under his touch.

"Always so.. curious," Thomas whispered to his ear, nipping it with his teeth. Newt growled and moved his head to the side as Thomas started leaving open mouthed, wet kisses to his neck. Thomas's hands roamed over Newt's abdomen, starting to tug the shirt he was wearing.

Newt lifted himself obediently off the bed as Thomas's hands pulled his shirt off of him. He returned the favour by tearing Thomas's shirt over his head as well, then pulled him down against him, skin to skin.

As their lips touched, it was as if Newt was swallowed by a flame. Every part of his body started to burn, burn for Thomas, burn for more, more, _more. _Their mouths savoured each other as their bodies clung together, moving against each other. Their breathing grew heavier by each passing second, and Newt couldn't take it much longer.

He tore his mouth away from Thomas's. "Tommy, Tommy- _ahh-_" Thomas started attacking his neck again, distracting Newt badly. "Tommy, I need- I need you to- _there-_"

Thomas froze against him but after a second Newt could feel a smile spreading over his lips against his neck. Ever so slowly, Thomas started to kiss his neck again, his lips leaving a hot trail on his skin as his hands started to lower themselves on Newt's body, starting to tug at his trousers.

Newt lifted his hips eagerly off the bed, letting Thomas ease his trousers down with his underwear. Thomas gave Newt's lips a bruising kiss and then his hand was around him, squeezing lightly, starting to move excruciatingly _slow.._

"_Tommy!_"

*.*.*

Newt opened his eyes and was up, leaning his palms to the mattress, in mere seconds. His head felt dizzy and it took him a moment to become aware of his surroundings again. Taking in huge gulps of air he tried to calm himself down and wrap his mind around what was real and what wasn't.

_It was a dream, you bloody idiot. Just.. a dream._

Newt squeezed his eyes shut, tugging at his hair with his hand, trying to push off the pain that was swirling through his chest. He couldn't understand why he was feeling so hurt, so out of place, as if there was something _missing _inside of him.

Why did the bloody Greenie always linger on the edge of his mind these days? Why did this ridiculous, smart, stubborn boy make him feel this way? Him and his.. body.

Newt groaned at the throbbing feeling in his pants. He couldn't ignore it no matter how hard he tried. Finally giving up, Newt settled back to his bed, guiding his hand under his pants to take care of the result of his dream.

It didn't take long before Newt's world turned into a bliss of pleasure and relief. As he breathed in and out, listening to his heart beat rapidly in his chest, he couldn't help turning his head to the side, watching the side of the bed that was now empty but only a while ago had been occupied by another boy.

Even if it all had happened in his head.. he hadn't ever felt like this before.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **It's time for chapter 5 now! I hope you're all having a lovely weekend. This chapter is one of my favourites and I had so much fun writing it! I wish you enjoy it as well! Keep sharing your thoughts with me, thank you!

* * *

_And it's you and me and all of the people  
And I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of you_

Next morning Newt walked to the kitchen with weariness taking over his features. After he had woken up from the dream, he had barely slept at all. The lack of sleep would soon become his doom if he couldn't find a solution to restore his peace of mind.

Most of the Gladers were up and munching their breakfasts in quiet. There wasn't much chatter in the mornings as everyone was trying to blink the sleepiness from their eyes. Newt snatched an apple from a large bowl on the table and searched an empty table to sit at and sulk.

Newt was chewing his bite of the apple as a plate full of porridge appeared opposite him on the table with a loud clank, startling Newt out of his thoughts. As Newt blinked his eyes, Minho slipped into the seat on the other side of the table, smirking.

"Good morning, sunshine!" the Asian boy chirped. Newt just scowled and wondered what the bloody hell had gotten the other boy so buggin' cheery all of a sudden.

"Ah, having a bad day, then? Do share what's gotten your pretty face all scrunched up like that. Doesn't suit you, ya know," Minho mocked, taking a spoonful of the grey mash into his mouth and kicking Newt under the table.

Newt growled and grimaced, irritated. "Shut your hole, shank! Not everyone shares your bloody early birdiness. I'm definitely not in a mood to your yappings right now."

Minho frowned, a look of worry settling on his eyes, replacing the mirth quickly.

"Mate, are you okay? Now that I look at you, you don't look too good. What's buggin' you, really?" Minho asked him, leaning his elbows on the table.

Newt avoided Minho's eyes, swiping a frustrated hand through his hair. "It's nothing, Minho. I'm just tired. Why does every buggerin' soul keep asking that from me," he mumbled, taking another small bite of his apple to distract himself.

"It's a reasonable question, you know. I'm not gonna push you though. We all know where that leads.." Minho chuckled and shook his head slightly, earning another death glare from Newt.

Minho rolled his eyes and changed the subject. "Anyway, yesterday, there was some new stuff for Runners amongst the supplies. We got these new watches that..."

Newt found himself tuning out of Minho's babble as his ears registered other voices behind him. Newt turned his head slightly and caught a sight of Thomas conversing with Frypan.

The dark-haired boy was smiling and clearly joking with the cook as they both started sniggering to something he had said. As the boy finished collecting his breakfast, he nodded to Frypan and turned around, facing the room. Suddenly Newt found himself staring straight at those hazel eyes.

Newt's eyes widened a bit and quickly he whirled his head back to his own breakfast, his cheeks starting to burn slightly from the embarassment of getting caught looking.

"...you even listening to what I'm saying?" Minho stopped his excited rambling suddenly and glared at Newt with narrowed eyes. Newt bit his lip and was about to answer when he was distracted as Minho suddenly moved in his chair to glance behind Newt, spotting Thomas still near the counter.

Quickly Minho raised his hand, gesturing for Thomas while a grin spread over his lips again. "Oi, Thomas! Come over and sit with us!"

Newt froze. He stared at Minho with widened eyes, completely horrified by the turn of events. This wasn't at all how his morning was supposed to go. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but no sound came out. Minho raised his eyebrows at him, wondering his friend's odd reaction.

Eventually Thomas appeared beside Minho, sitting on another chair after the older boy had shifted to make some space for him. Minho clapped the dark-haired Greenie to his back, grinning widely. Newt kept his gaze on the table, stubbornly munching his apple.

"Morning," came Thomas's voice, a little unsure. Newt found himself inhaling his smell again and his eyes met Thomas's without a conscious thought. He swallowed hard and quickly tore his eyes away, nodding to the boy in acknowledgement, suddenly unable to open his mouth.

"Ignore Newt, he's been a cranky little bugger the whole morning," Minho chattered cheerfully and Newt scowled him yet again. "Wouldn't even listen to me telling him about our new Runner equipment," he continued with a disapproving tone.

That certainly seemed to spark Thomas's interest and he turned his watchful gaze to Minho, inquiring for more details.

The two of them engaged in excited conversation about the Runners and their equipment and Newt found himself totally ignored. His eyes kept sneaking glances at the boy opposite him more often than not. The boy's whole appearance seemed to glow somehow as he listened to Minho rambling about Runners and there was no mistaking the passion in his voice as he offered his opinions. Newt really couldn't wrap his mind around it, wondering how it could be possible for a Greenie to be that keen on becoming a Runner.

At times his eyes would linger on the boy's mouth for a little too long and few times he was caught when Thomas's eyes swept over him at the same time. Newt tried to composure himself as best he could every time but he didn't notice Minho's pensive gaze scrutinizing the two boys before him.

"You'll make one hell of a Runner some day, Thomas. I'm sure of that," Minho stated, grinning.

Newt watched as a wide smile spread over Thomas's lips for the praise. "So, is it decided, then? Have I been chosen as a Trainee?" There was no mistaking the utter excitement in his voice.

Minho opened his mouth to answer but Newt suddenly cut in.

"No, nothing's decided yet." Both Minho and Thomas startled a bit, hearing his voice again after his long silence. "You still have some proving to do. The decision of your future job here will be done by the Keepers, depending on how you've managed with each of them and the work. Not long to go anymore, though. The Gathering will be held by the end of the week, I suppose."

Thomas nodded slowly, playing with the napkin he'd taken from the counter.

"What's left for you, then? I thought you had already tried out every job possible here," Minho asked, sitting back in his chair after having finished his breakfast as well.

Thomas glanced at Newt before answering.

"If I'm right, it's my last day with the different Keepers. I'm yet to spend a day with the Builders," Thomas explained and eyed Newt with a question in his voice. Newt nodded curtly.

"Oh man, good luck with those shuckheads! I hated that day back when I was a Greenie. Gally's been one buggerin' bastard since his very first day. Can't stand the guy," Minho shuddered at the memory of his Builder day.

"Yeah and Gally's not the only bastard in that lot," Newt muttered darkly as his hands turned into tight fists under the table.

Thomas watched him with a frown on his face as Minho suddenly declared it was time to start the day's work. They all started to rise from their chairs and took their dishes to the counter.

"See ya around, shanks!" Minho grinned at them and without waiting for a response, he quickly made his way out of the kitchen, leaving Thomas and Newt by themselves.

They glanced at each other warily and just as Newt couldn't stand the tension between them anymore, there was a shout at the door.

"Hey, Greenie! Get your lazy butt outside and quit trying to put off your responsibilities! It's time to work," Gally sneered, a group of Builders in tow. Newt noticed Ben amongst them and his gaze hardened immediately.

Thomas straightened his spine and glared at the boys, clearly irritated. Newt took one glance at him and took a step forward, opening his mouth before Thomas could react.

"I would've liked to see you even up and about by this hour when you were Greenie yourself, Gally. Not much to brag about there," Newt shouted back at the Builder.

Gally's face darkened as he narrowed his eyes at Newt. "Shut up, Newt. Come on, Greenie, we don't have all day to waste for chit-chat," Gally ordered, starting to back away with the other Builders following suit.

By Newt's side, Thomas seemed more or less taken aback. Suddenly he cleared his throat and seemed to gather himself. "I guess I'd better go," Thomas muttered after the Builders had backed off. "Thanks for standing up for me. You wouldn't have needed to do that, though."

Newt noticed Thomas's tight jaw and guessed the boy wasn't all pleased by his interference. He elbowed the younger boy lightly to the side, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth. "I know you're one tough Greenie, Tommy. I know you could've handled it yourself, too. Gally's one irritating shank and he won't go easy on you today. Try not to end up into the Slammer, 's all I say."

Thomas's lips twitched with amusement and his eyes sparkled as he looked at Newt.

"We'll see about that," Thomas quipped and started to retreat to the door finally.

Something flickered in the pit of Newt's stomach and suddenly he stepped forward and seized Thomas's arm, stopping the boy in his tracks. Thomas turned around, looking at Newt's hand around his arm curiously.

"Just.. Be careful today, Tommy," Newt whispered. Thomas raised his gaze and their eyes locked.

Thomas smiled at him. "I will be."

Newt let his arm go and his fingers brushed Thomas's skin a bit too longer than necessary. Then Thomas was walking towards the door again, leaving Newt standing in the middle of the room, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **This week I've been thinking quite a lot about future. The future of my own as well as the future of this fic. And I must say, things are starting to work out in both cases. The plotline is taking shape brilliantly, finally! Here's chapter 6 for you, I wish you keep enjoying it! A bit of action ahead!

* * *

_I'm out of touch, I'm out of love  
I'll pick you up when you're getting down _

Newt spent most of his day working on the Fields. There were always weeds to get rid of, water to carry for the plants and many other things to take care of. Newt had always found the physical work immensely satisfying. He liked working with his hands and tending plants felt natural to him in some way. The fact that the Gladers produced most of their food by themselves made Newt feel proud of all of them. Organization and order helped him feel like they could have at least some sense and stability in their otherwise restricted and outright crazy lives.

In the late afternoon the grumbling of his stomach and the delicious smells drifting from the kitchen lead Newt finally to take a break from work and head off for dinner. As he passed the Homestead, he couldn't help but sneak glances at the group of Builders bustling around the construction. He spotted Thomas amongst them, his shirt sticking to his sweaty skin as he carried heavy-looking branches beside the wall of the building they were currently working on to repair.

Newt didn't dare to stop by and interrupt their work. He didn't exactly have the energy to confront Gally and the others with an empty stomach. And the Greenie seemed to manage just fine. As fine as one could with the Builders, anyway.

There was peaceful enough in the kitchen as Newt stepped over the threshold. He stopped by the counter and filled his plate with mashed potatoes, steak and beans. He walked over to his favourite corner and sat down, starting to eat his dinner by himself.

This time no one came to interrupt his meal time. Usually Newt enjoyed the company of the other Gladers but today he just didn't think he would make such a great company to anyone. He snatched the last of his meal to his mouth and found his eyes descending on Frypan who was doing the dishes while whistling some odd melody. As he rose from the table, he decided to take care of another one of his responsibilities as he was already there.

Newt went around the counter and leaned on the wall behind Frypan who was still whistling by himself, totally oblivious to the fact he had got company.

"Cheers, Frypan," Newt greeted the boy before him.

A heavy, soapy pan slipped from the cook's hands and hit the ground with a clatter as the boy visibly jumped and whirled around, gasping for air, his eyes widened.

"Shuck it, Newt! What the hell do you think you're doing, creeping up on people like that! I almost got a heart attack, for Christ's sake," the visibly irritated boy spluttered as he wiped his hands to his apron.

Newt snickered and crouched down to raise the pan from the ground, offering it to the cook. Frypan snatched it from his hands, still scowling at Newt. He turned the pan around in his hands, searching for damage.

"You're lucky it's still intact. It would've been all your fault if we had had to live without my fried steaks before the shucking Creators felt willing to send us a new pan," Frypan grumbled, putting his precious tool carefully back to the sink.

"Sorry, mate. Should've figured how much you care for your dear pans," Newt chuckled, amused.

Frypan snorted derisively. "Whatever. Did you have something to say to me or were you just amusing yourself by scaring the shuck out of poor, oblivious people?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.

Newt nodded in acknowledgement. "Actually, yes, I did have something to ask you about." As Frypan gestured with his hand for Newt to continue, the blonde-haired boy shifted slightly before opening his mouth again.

"Well, as we know, our Greenie, Tommy, spent the previous day with you. And as I'm one of the people keeping up with his dealings in the Glade, I'd just like to know how Tommy did here. Would he make a better cook than you?" Newt smirked at his last statement and watched as Frypan snorted again, clearly amused.

"Thomas's one great kid. Works hard, tries harder, has one brilliant sense of humor. Gives hell of a nice company," Frypan chuckled to himself, shaking his head slightly. "Still, too restless for the kitchen. I fear he might actually become claustrophobic here, staying in one room for most of the day. That Greenie needs grander schemes. He's got pretty clever mind in that head of his. Not enough patience to cook some delicious minestrone, though," Frypan licked his lips at the mere thought of the soup, breathing in through his nose as if being able to smell it in the air.

Newt listened closely, his mind eagerly collecting any new information and insight possible considering the dark-haired Greenie. He wasn't fully aware of the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth but instead kept gazing pensively out of the window that gave a view over the Homestead as Frypan started babbling about the finesse of soul it took to be able to distinguish just the right amount of spices and how few people actually ever had the patience to master that particular skill. Eventually Newt snapped out of his daze and turned his attention back to the cook before him.

"So, from what I can gather, you can keep your pans all to yourself," Newt summarized, turning his head to the side.

Frypan was nodding along. "I guess you're right. I'd sure keep that shank around if only I didn't see he's clearly meant for something bigger. Not many Greenies I've dealt with have-"

Frypan's words were cut off by loud shouts and cracks erupting outside. Both boys frowned, confused. Newt's gaze snapped back to the window and he felt his eyes widen as he took few shaking steps to grip the frame of the window, staring out in disbelief.

The group of Builders had formed a circle beside the Homestead, cheering and sneering loudly. In the center of the group two boys were engaged in a fierce combat, kicking, hitting and wrestling the hell out of each other. Newt couldn't make out the actual fighters as the Builders around them kept moving as well. Suddenly one of the boys stepped aside and made a clear view for Newt to observe the situation. As it became clear just who were out there dueling, Newt felt all color drain from his face as shock shivered all over his body, his limbs starting to feel numb.

"Tommy.." a whisper filled with terror slipped past his lips. Suddenly his sight became crystal clear and blood rushed through his veins as he finally registered what his eyes were seeing.

In a second Newt whirled around on his heels and strode out of the kitchen, knocking several Gladers to the ground in his pace but not stopping for a moment. As soon as he was out of the door, his eyes were glued to the spot where the group of Builders, and already even more other Gladers, were being gathered. There was only one thought in his head that kept screaming at him to hurry up, one voice that repeated the Greenie's name in his head all over again..

His legs didn't slow down until he'd pushed through the circle of boys around Thomas and Ben.

"STOP! What the bloody fuck do you shuckheads think you're doing?!" the shout was so loud it hurt Newt's throat but he couldn't have cared less. As the boys didn't even seem to realize someone else had spoken, Newt growled and dove straight into the melee, pushing Ben off of Thomas, catching the boy off guard and sending him sprawled to the ground, dumbfounded, but only for a second.

"Stop it right now, both of you! I won't tolerate any-" Newt shouted, standing between the two of the boys, his hands in tight fists, veins popping out of the skin of his arms and blood rushing through his body, until Ben effortlessly jumped up again and smacked Newt straight to his face so fast he had no time to react.

Newt lost his footing and fell to the ground as a sharp, throbbing pain spread over his left cheek. His arms grazed the little rocks under him and he stared at Ben with a murderous gaze as the blonde, broad-shouldered boy hovered over him, sneering with a wildness in his eyes that sent shivers of cool horror down Newt's spine. Something was definitely off with that gaze.

As Ben was about to open his mouth to retort one thing or another, Thomas suddenly rose from the ground, his shirt ruined, bleeding and panting hard, interrupting him with a trembling shout, "Don't you dare touch him! Don't you dare-" And he kicked Ben behind the knee, making the boy howl in pain, and attacked him again with his fists.

Newt couldn't quite believe that this was really happening – or on second thoughts, he really shouldn't be surprised, it was Thomas and Ben after all – but this was really getting out of hand. Badly.

Newt started to rise from the ground and as he prepared himself to interfere again, he was a bit startled when he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. Frypan nodded him with a severe expression on his face, a few other Gladers along with him. Two sturdy boys stepped forward, seizing Ben's arms and starting to tore him away at the same time as Frypan and Newt took hold of Thomas. Newt felt Thomas's biceps flexing rapidly under his grip as the boy growled and resisted all he could as Newt and Frypan desperately tried to hold him back. In the end they got the two enraged boys away from each other, shouting at them to calm themselves down.

"Slim it, Tommy! You aren't a bloody kid anymore, so don't act like one," Newt hissed to Thomas's ear, slipping his hand around Thomas's waist, holding him close as the other boy still kept trying to charge forward, his muscles quivering.

That seemed to froze Thomas and made him realise who exactly was holding him in place. He glanced at his left side where Frypan simply kept his strong hand around his bicep and turned his gaze slowly to Newt who was holding him peculiarly close. Thomas noted the red bruising on Newt's cheekbone which stood clearly out of his pale skin. Thomas's eyes darkened again and his muscles tensed under Newt's hold as if he was about to try and free himself again to finish the fight.

"What's the meaning of this?" came a low, dangerous voice behind the group of Gladers.

Newt turned his head to the side and looked as Alby made his way to the clearing. Alby looked angry, his tight fists on his sides, his body pulsing with thinly veiled irritation.

"Newt? What's going on here?" Alby pierced Newt with his gaze, gesturing around him, narrowing his eyes at the sight of bloody, heavily panting Ben and Thomas who were still being held back.

Newt cleared his throat, looking Alby in the eyes as he answered. "Ben and Tommy here decided it was convenient to start a nasty little fight. The shanks were punching the bloody hell out of each other by the time I got here," he explained, disappointment dripping clearly from his voice.

Alby raised his eyebrows, clearly irritated now. "And why exactly were they fighting?" he demanded.

There was no answer. Ben raised his gaze at Thomas and sneered at him, and Thomas tried once again to pull himself free but Frypan and Newt's hold of him was strong enough to keep him in place.

"No answer? Well then. Don't you think I'm just gonna forget about this. You both know our rules. 'Do not hurt another Glader.' You've both ignored that very simple rule and you're just not getting away with it." Alby looked over at the boys, glaring at them. "Slammer, two days, both of you. Separately. Starting with Ben." There was no arguing against Alby's tone. "Med-jacks! Get those shanks checked and right after send Ben to his punishment. Everyone else, go back to whatever the hell you were doing. The show's over."

As Newt looked, Alby nodded to him. Suddenly he felt Thomas swaying on his feet a bit, stumbling a step back. Newt immediately tightened his hold on him, his forehead wrinkling with worry.

"Tommy, are you ok? Tommy?" Newt asked urgently, turning to look at Thomas's face.

Thomas's eyes were nearly closed, sweat sticking to his forehead, a look of pain flashing over his face. "I'm.. I don't feel too good," Thomas mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Newt felt his heart beat rapidly against his ribs. "Fry, let's get him to lie down. Fast," he said, slipping Thomas's right arm around his shoulders.

Together they started to haul almost unconscious Thomas inside the Homestead, a Med-jack walking right behind them.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** You'll get this chapter pretty soon since I'll be quite busy next week and it'll probably be weekend again before I'm able to update. About this chapter, there were some parts that kept bugging me and I'm still not completely satisfied with all of them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Lots of hurt/comfort here!

* * *

_I know you get me_

_So I let my walls come down, down_

Newt and Frypan eased Thomas carefully to a sitting position on the bed in the spare room upstairs. Thomas wailed slightly as he tried to stay up, his face looked ashen and he was holding his stomach with his other hand. Newt kept his arm around Thomas, helping him sit straight, touching his hand to Thomas's forehead. It was covered in sweat.

"Here," the Med-jack, Jeff, said and handed him a bowl. Newt accepted it, but suddenly it was snatched from his hands by Thomas as the boy pushed him off of him. A flash of confusion and hurt flashed in Newt's face until Thomas buried his head to the bowl, throwing up violently.

Thomas spat to the bowl and swept his hand over his mouth before putting the bowl to the floor and laying slowly down to the bed, clearly in a lot of pain.

"What's wrong with him?" a small, slightly trembling voice slipped past Newt's lips, worry etched on his face.

As Newt was about to step closer again, Jeff stopped him by stepping between him and the bed, placing his Med-jack's bag to the bedside table. Newt frowned but stayed back as Jeff got to his work, starting to run some basic tests on Thomas.

Newt gnawed his fingernails in an anxious manner as he stared impatiently at Jeff who carefully touched his hands all over Thomas's head, examining it for injuries and ignoring the boy's mild protestations while he listened to Thomas's breathing and checked his eyes with a small flashlight. Finally Jeff straightened up and turned to Newt and Frypan.

"It's just a mild concussion, I suppose. Luckily it's nothing too severe. I still need to take a look at his other injuries, though." The Med-jack glanced warily at the dark-haired boy's scruffy appearance. "The shank got beaten up pretty badly. I could use some help-"

"I'll stay," Newt answered immediately, startling the others a bit by his sudden declaration.

Jeff nodded slowly and turned to his bag, starting to fiddle with some of his equipment. Frypan raised his eyebrows a bit but nodded as well, clapping Newt to the back. "See that our Greenie gets up and runnin' about again," he said with a small smile on his lips, glancing at the restlessly stirring Thomas who was mumbling incoherently to himself on the bed.

Newt looked as Frypan backed away, closing the door behind him. Then he shook his head and finally stepped next to the bed again, settling his anxious eyes on Thomas. The boy on the bed looked very ill.

"Okay, we gotta get his clothes off. They are more or less bloody and we need to clean his wounds and check that he hasn't any broken bones," Jeff explained, all professional. Newt swallowed hard and felt blood rushing under the skin of his cheeks but nodded curtly. They had to make sure Tommy was gonna be okay.

Jeff helped Thomas to rise to a sitting position again as Newt started to ease the shirt off of the boy. He slid his hands lightly over the other boy's stomach, raising the shirt with the movement. As it revealed the bare skin underneath, Newt felt the breath hitch in his chest as his eyes settled on the sight before him and his hands froze against Thomas's chest.

The beautiful, slightly tanned, smooth skin was covered by angry bruises all over Thomas's abdomen. Jeff moved his head to take a look as well and grimaced. Thomas had his eyes closed tightly shut and he leaned heavily against Jeff who was holding him in place, not saying a word. Newt swallowed again and finally snapped out of the mixture of feelings rushing through his body_. _In his mind he swore he would make Ben pay for what he had done.

"Hey, Tommy, would you raise your hands a bit, yeah- just like that," Newt murmured to the boy softly, removing the shirt off of him slowly, finally sweeping it over his head and letting it fall to the floor.

They checked the boy's back but there seemed to be no other injuries besides more bruising. As they were about to start stripping off Thomas's trousers, the boy suddenly growled and the two boys stopped, glancing at him in worry.

"Tommy, what is it?" Newt asked urgently, looking all over Thomas's face as the boy opened his eyes but avoided their gaze.

"I'm- I'm fine guys, just let me sleep. I feel stupid enough as it is," the boy murmured, a flash of red appearing on his cheeks. Jeff snickered, amused.

"Sorry mate, in case you haven't noticed, your leg is bleeding and we really should get that cleaned up," Jeff grinned at the boy and he settled Thomas on his back, asking for Newt to get the disinfectants ready as he quickly stripped Thomas off of his trousers, letting the boy only keep his underwear. Newt felt a flash of jealousy flare through his insides at Jeff's actions. _What bloody right has he to boss me around and – and take Tommy's pants off? _Suddenly aware of his thoughts again, Newt shivered and snatched the bottle of disinfectant and some cotton pads.

"If I wasn't about to black out at any second, I'd.." Thomas mumbled under his breath, throwing his arm over his eyes, mortified.

Newt stepped back beside the bed, desperately trying to keep his eyes from travelling all around the exposed skin before him. As his eyes caught the long slash along Thomas's thigh, his confusing mind was filled with the mix of worry and anger again. Jeff tried to take the disinfectant from his hands but he held them back.

"I can bloody well clean one simple wound, you bloody shank," Newt growled, irritated. Jeff held his hands up, shrugged and stepped away.

Newt sat beside Thomas on the bed. He opened the bottle and moistened the cotton with the liquid and started to pat it gently against the wound on Thomas's leg. As the bitter liquid touched the skin, there was a sharp hiss of pain at the other end of the bed as Thomas jumped slightly. Newt glanced at him quickly but continued cleaning the wound and Thomas let him.

Jeff came over and silently handed him a small tube of some kind of healing salve and a large bandage to put over the wound. Newt spread some salve around the cleaned wound and placed the bandage over it.

Without permission Newt moved ahead, shuffling closer to Thomas's upper body, starting to treat the few smaller cuts on his arms and chest with the same care. He was so focused on his work he was barely aware of the world around him. There was just he and Thomas in the room for all he knew. He didn't notice the Med-jack's widened eyes as the boy kept staring at the two of them.

Thomas had lowered his arm from his face at some point and let Newt get it cleaned up as well. Newt didn't notice the wondering, warm way Thomas's eyes were resting on him as he worked on his wounds dutifully. Eventually, Newt raised his head to look at Thomas's face and was taken aback by the expression he found there. Thomas's hazel brown eyes were heavy with fatigue and pain but there was a whole variety of emotions to be found there. Newt took a shuddering intake of breath and shuffled even closer, cupping Thomas's jaw carefully with his hand.

Newt tore his eyes away from those burning, beautiful eyes and settled on patting the small cuts along Thomas's jaw and cheeks. Thomas kept his eyes on him the whole time, only slightly grimacing anymore as the disinfectant bit his sensitive skin.

The cotton pad was soon covered in blood and Newt turned his gaze away from Thomas's face, just about to snatch a clean disinfectant pad from the table when he felt the tiniest brush of fingers on his injured cheek. He turned his head back quickly, staring at Thomas who was looking at his bruised skin with a troubled wrinkle between his eyebrows.

"You should get this cleaned up as well," Thomas murmured softly, sweeping his fingers gently over his cheek again.

Newt's heart pounded hard in his chest and his skin tingled under Thomas's touch. Suppressing the urge to close his eyes and sigh in pleasure, Newt smiled softly instead.

"It's nothing, Tommy. Just a scratch. I'm okay," he said, taking Thomas's hand in his own and lowering it slowly back to the boy's lap.

"I'm alright as well, Newt. You don't have to worry about me," Thomas argued quietly, sweeping his thumb over Newt's fingers.

Newt swallowed hard and his eyes locked with Thomas's, holding his gaze for long minutes. During that look, something shifted between the two of them. Newt could feel it in the way a shiver ran down his spine and he watched as Thomas's gaze lowered slowly to his lips.

Suddenly someone cleared their throat behind them. Newt whirled his head around, blinking as he realized Jeff was still standing there. He pulled his hand away and sat up straight again as he felt a blush settling over his face. Still, he couldn't bring himself to feel ashamed. He had simply been taking care of Tommy.

Jeff stepped closer and Newt noticed he was holding a cup full of water and some pill.

"Here, Thomas, take this. I guess your stomach has settled enough already so you can at least try to ingest something to relieve your pain," he gave the glass and the medicine to Thomas who was propped up slightly with Newt's help. The dark-haired boy swallowed the medicine gratefully and settled back to the bed, sighing.

"You may get some sleep now. Because of your concussion, though, you must be watched over for at least a day from now and you can't be allowed to sleep more than a few hours straight. Someone has to wake you up regularly to see how you're doing and note if there's any change in your demeanor," Jeff paused for a bit, looking at Newt pointedly. "I'm gonna go check on how Clint and others are doing with Ben. I guess you can keep an eye on Thomas for the night, then?" Jeff raised his eyebrows slightly in question even though a smile tried to tug at his lips.

"Sure," Newt assured, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

Jeff nodded to him, turning around to leave. "Just let me know immediately if there's any kind of change on his condition." He closed the door behind him.

Newt blinked after him a couple of times, his brain trying to catch up with the situation at hand. He turned his gaze back to Thomas and noted the boy had silently fallen asleep. His chest was rising and falling regularly as he breathed slowly in and out. All the lines of pain had cleared out of his face and there was only the look of peace and vulnerability that made something twist painfully somewhere near Newt's heart.

Slowly Newt rose from the bed, trying not to wake the other boy up. There was no reason to worry, though, since the boy seemed to be fast asleep.

Newt covered Thomas's treated body with a soft blanket and tucked the boy in, unable to stop himself from sweeping his lips lightly over Thomas's forehead before settling to sit on a chair beside the bed. He kept his eyes on the sleeping, extraordinary boy, emotions and thoughts swirling through his confused mind. Still, at the same time, Newt felt a peculiar peace settle over him, in a way he hadn't felt for a very long time.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Wow just wow. Thank you so much for the amazing feedback! I'm really overwhelmed by how much you guys seem to love my story! It makes me the happiest to know I can make you happy with my words.

As I predicted earlier, I was really busy for the whole week but as promised, here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

* * *

_When you sleep, will it be with me?_

_When you sleep, will it be with me?_

The small pocket watch Newt had found from the Med-jack's bag ticked loudly in the otherwise silent room. The blonde-haired boy was holding it inside his fist, keeping his eyes on the boy before him. The Homestead around him was quiet as most of the boys had already gone to sleep.

Thomas had been sleeping for about two hours and Newt had been watching him the whole time. As fascinating as the boy was, the passive sitting still and the lack of sleep from days before slowly started to get the better of him. Newt's racing thoughts had slowed down to a sluggish stream, the edges of his mind softening and blurring.

His arm eased itself to rest on the surface of the bedside table, pillowing his head on top of it. As his eyelids started to feel irresistibly heavy, he could feel his thoughts starting to drift away, leaving him feel so, so blissfully light.

*.*.*

Newt shivered as he felt a hand caressing his bare back, fingers dancing up and down on his spine in a languid, calming manner. He rested his head on his crossed arms, breathing in and out, feeling so calm and _safe_, hoping it would never end feeling like this.

He opened his dark brown eyes slowly, his gaze immediately descending on the pair of hazel brown, warm eyes gazing at him mere inches away. Thomas was resting on his side, facing Newt, his head propped against his palm as his elbow leaned against the mattress. The sheets of the bed were haphazardly spread to cover the lower parts of their bodies, the sheet resting low on Thomas's hip and revealing his flat, muscled stomach and chest.

As their eyes locked, a slow smile started to spread on Thomas's face, the warmness of his eyes intensifying. He swept his fingers over Newt's spine to twine in the blonde locks of hair, caressing his scalp gently. Newt breathed softly, his eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure Thomas's gentle touch ignited.

"I love seeing you like this," Thomas murmured softly. Newt blinked his eyes open again, staring at the dark-haired boy in wonder. "So relaxed, so open, so soft. Beautiful. You look like you don't have a worry in the world," Thomas continued, smiling his wonderful smile at Newt.

"But it's true," Newt answered, scooting closer on the bed, lifting his hand to curl around the nape of Thomas's neck. "When I'm with you, I'm safe. I'm happy. I can forget the rest of the world around me. _You _are my world."

Thomas's smile widened against Newt's lips as the blonde-haired boy pulled him to a kiss. Their lips moved gently, softly together. There was no heat in their kiss this time, it wasn't rushed by passion but instead it was slow, beautiful and meaningful in a whole different way.

After a while, Thomas pulled back slightly, whispering few words so quietly Newt couldn't make them out. As he leaned forward to catch Thomas's mouth again, the boy resisted, repeating the words, louder this time.

"Wake up," Thomas whispered, looking at him with a sliver of sadness in his eyes Newt couldn't quite understand.

"What?" Newt asked, his brow furrowed with confusion as he looked at Thomas.

"Wake up," Thomas repeated, sweeping his hand through Newt's hair and looking over his features as if trying to memorize them. "Darling, wake up."

Newt opened his mouth to speak again, but then he started to feel oddly light-headed and the room, the bed and Thomas seemed to drift away. His sight became blurred and he couldn't hear his own voice anymore as he called out for Thomas, but it was all in vain as his world was spinning, spinning,...

*.*.*

Newt woke up with a start, cracking his neck painfully as he straightened up in seconds. He blinked the exhaustion from his eyes rapidly as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The spare room of the Homestead was silent, the boy on the bed still sleeping peacefully. Newt let out a long, relieved breath and willed his heart to stop pounding so hard.

As his gaze fell upon the clock, his face paled. How in hell had he fallen asleep for four bloody hours? Thomas would soon have slept almost seven hours without anyone checking him out. Newt cursed himself inside his head as a sick feeling started to churn in his stomach. _How can I be so stupid?_

Newt fell quickly to his knees beside the bed, curling his hand against Thomas shoulder, shaking the boy gently.

"Thomas? Tommy? Wake up, hey, wake up," Newt whispered urgently, worry lacing his tone. He touched Thomas's cool forehead with his other hand, moving his hand to palm the side of his face.

"Hey, Tommy, come on," Newt urged him as the boy didn't show any signs of waking up immediately. Newt's breathing quickened and he felt cold fear sweep down his spine.

Suddenly Thomas's breathing changed and he started to stir. Newt froze and watched with wide eyes as Thomas's eyes moved slightly under his eyelids and soon he started to blink them open.

As Thomas's exhausted, unfocused eyes finally found Newt's, Newt let out a huge breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. A smile spread over his face as he murmured, "Tommy."

Thomas was gazing at him, slowly waking up to this world. The boy frowned and as he finally opened his mouth, his voice came out so hoarse Newt could barely make out the words. "Newt?" he croaked. "What- what's going on?"

Newt suddenly became aware of the way his hand was cupping Thomas's cheek and he pulled it away reluctantly. He rose to pour a glass of water for Thomas and handed it to the boy who took it gratefully, propping up on his elbows and drinking the water in just a few gulps. Newt settled the glass back to the table, facing Thomas again. Then all his worry and anxiety erupted in a rush.

"Tommy, how are you doing? Are you in pain? Do you want another pain killer? How does- how does your head feel? Can you think straight? Can you-" Newt spluttered the questions out of his mouth but was cut off as he felt Thomas's fingers curl around his own. His mouth hanging slightly open, he gazed at their joined hands in wonder.

"Newt, stop worrying. I feel just.. fine. Head hurts like hell, though," Thomas said, rubbing his forehead with his other hand, grimacing slightly. "I guess I could use another pain killer, but otherwise, I'm alright."

Newt nodded, poured him another glass of water and handed him a pill from the Med-jack's bag. He waited as the other boy accepted the drink and the medicine, desperately trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Thomas was still holding his hand.

"I guess it doesn't make sense for me to ask you simple questions like, what's your birthday or what year it is since none of us here knows the answers, either," Newt mumbled, receiving an amused chuckle from Thomas. "I don't even have a clue to what the bloody hell to actually ask you, to be honest," Newt revealed, flustered.

Thomas looked at him for a while, then yawned. "Well, let's see. I remember my name. I remember yours. I remember waking up in this place called the Box two weeks ago, arriving to this place called the Glade, meeting all you shanks, getting to know you, working, working,.. oh yes, and yesterday I kicked that slinthead's ass," Thomas listed, grinning triumphantly.

Newt felt a smile tugging at his lips and he shook his head, amused. "Nothing wrong with your memory, then. Your humour seems to be back, as well," he noted but then grew serious again, narrowing his eyes at the boy. "But seriously, Tommy, what the hell were you thinking yesterday? What was that stupid fight about? You know that shank's not worth it. I thought you knew better than that," he said, an ounce of disappointment in his voice.

Thomas avoided his gaze suddenly, pouting his lips a bit before answering, "Listen, I don't wanna talk about it. Not right now, anyway." The dark-haired boy yawned again, his eyes looking heavy.

Newt sighed and gave up for now. The boy needed his rest. "Alright, Tommy. We'll talk about this later, then," Newt declared and finally pulled his hand away from Thomas's, sitting back on his chair. His hand felt cold without the heat of another palm. Empty, too, in more ways than one. "Go back to sleep, now, sleepyhead," he added, a tiny tremble on his voice.

Thomas's eyes had closed during Newt's words and his breathing had started to grow deeper as well. As Newt had slipped his hand away, Thomas's brow had furrowed and for a moment he looked so lost Newt wanted to take hold of his hand again, but in the end he decided against it, swallowing hard. Thomas was already asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Hello everyone! Christmas is getting closer, yay! I'm very excited and looking forward to the holidays already. I have so much stuff to take care of before that, though, but I won't forget about you! Here's chapter 9. This is one of the chapters that makes me very anxious about your response.. Anyway, here we go! *takes a deep breath*

* * *

_You don't want to hurt me,_

_But see how deep the bullet lies_

Few hours later Newt woke Thomas up again. This time the dark-haired boy's response to being forced to cut short his sleep was far more irritated. There was some exhausted bickering between the two boys as the other one tried to assure there was nothing wrong with him while the other refused to let the younger boy sleep again until he had made Newt somewhat convinced.

The morning light fought its way to the small room through the window. Newt blinked his exhausted eyes open as he heard the familiar sounds of the Glade waking up and starting a new day. He had been more or less dozing off again after waking Thomas up for the second time. He hadn't let himself fall asleep deeper this time, though.

Newt rose from his chair and stretched his arms over his head, yawning. He took a few steps to stand in front of the window. The Gladers were making their way to breakfast and others were already starting their work of the day. Newt spotted a group of Runners near the Map room, ready to head for the Maze soon. He also saw Chuck walking towards the kitchen, his head hanging low, his stance defeated. Newt found himself wondering what had gotten the young boy so upset and if the beaten Greenie currently snoring softly on the bed had anything to do with it. Thomas had grown quite close with the chubby kid over the last two weeks, Newt had observed.

The loud, screeching and familiar sound of the walls of the Glade opening pierced Newt's ears as his eyes observed the event behind the window. Suddenly he heard a loud gasp and the sound of bed sheets rustling as the boy on the bed was woken up by the sounds drifting from outside. Newt turned around and found Thomas leaning on the bed with his elbows that tried to hold his upper body up. He looked ready to rush out of the bed at any moment until his wild eyes settled upon Newt and he relaxed visibly, seeming to finally realize where he was.

"Good morning," Newt said with a smile, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his back to the wall next to the window.

"Morning," Thomas mumbled, sweeping his hand over his face and scratching the back of his head, frowning at the slight pain.

"How are you doing?" Newt asked, stepping closer automatically.

Thomas rolled his eyes, trying to sit up but then stopped as he started swaying, growled and squeezed his eyes shut. Newt rushed to put his hands on Thomas's shoulders, placing him back on the bed carefully.

"Tommy?" Newt whispered, worried. The dark-haired boy slowly opened his eyes again, squeezing his forehead with his fingers.

"I was feeling fine but then all of a sudden the room just started to spin," Thomas explained, avoiding his gaze.

Newt straightened up and started to sort through the bag on the table. "Well, Tommy, I'm no Med-jack, but I guess eating some food will help you feel better. You haven't felt sick in hours so I guess you can handle these for starters," he reasoned, snatching a few granola bars from the bag, handing them to Thomas.

The dark-haired boy took them eagerly and started to tore open the wrapping, taking a huge bite of the bar in seconds.

"Thanks," Thomas murmured, his mouth full.

Newt snorted at the boy's eagerness, amused, earning a glare from Thomas.

"Anyway, I suppose I should get Jeff to take a look at you and decide what to do with you next," Newt said and glanced at Thomas's bare chest, swallowing. "I should probably find you something to wear, as well."

Thomas eyed him, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, good that."

Newt nodded, starting to back away towards the door. "I'll go grab something for you from my room and find Jeff. You be a good Greenie and stay right there, okay?" Without waiting for a response, Newt stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

*.*.*

Newt closed the door of his room, leaning against it. He let out a deep, shuddering exhale. He had no idea what had been going on between him and Thomas last night but there was no denying something was definitely happening. Newt swept a hand over his tired face, willing his beating heart to calm down.

Finally he stepped away from the door and made his way toward his small wardrobe in the corner. Newt opened the top drawer and pulled out a long-sleeved, pale gray shirt. Then he opened the second one and eyed his pants collection laying there in neat piles. Newt had a pretty slim waist himself so he wondered if any of his trousers would fit Thomas. He had to swallow hard as he remembered how it felt to hold those strong, muscled hips under his hands. After a moment of indecision, he grabbed the largest trousers he could find, deciding they'd have to do. For a moment he hesitated, looking at the pairs of clean boxers, but snatched one of them as well.

As Newt pushed both of the drawers shut on the same movement, he heard the door to his room open. He turned back to face the room and was taken aback by the sight of Alby, standing at his door and closing it shut behind him.

"Alby?" Newt asked, surprised, wondering if something had happened. "What's going on?"

Alby exhaled heavily, shaking his head. "I just threw Ben to the Slammer after trying to find out what happened yesterday. Such a waste of time. The things he said.. I don't know whether to believe half the things coming out of his mouth. He really hasn't been himself after.. what happened to him," Alby sighed. He raised his gaze to fall upon Newt and a frown appeared on his face.

"Have you been up all night again? You look even more tired than yesterday." Alby started to step closer, his eyes falling to the heap of clothes Newt held in his hands. The dark-skinned boy stopped suddenly, something shifting in his eyes as the boy looked at Newt's face again. "Don't tell me you've been staying with the Greenie the whole night? _You _were the one who Jeff said was taking care of him," Alby realised, his tone turning accusing.

Newt frowned, utterly taken aback by Alby's words. "Um, yeah, I did look after him. Of course I did. He has a concussion and someone had to watch over him," he explained, irritation starting to tug at the edges of his mind. "Is there a problem, Alby?"

Alby's eyes turned dark in a way Newt had never experienced before, not when his eyes were focused on him. Alby took another step closer, only few feet separating them now. There was a strange stench drifting from Alby, one that Newt didn't immediately recognise. Newt felt coldness sweep down his spine again, making him shiver slightly.

"Yes, Newt, there is a problem. What the hell is going on with you?" Alby demanded, his tone turning dark, poisonous. "You barely see me these days, you flinch when I barely lay a finger in your direction, you avoid me in every situation possible. But you have no problem with Thomas, the bloody saint. You keep looking after him, touching him, looking at him as if he's a bloody saviour of the world," Alby spat, gripping Newt's shoulders, pushing him hard against the drawers.

Newt gasped, his eyes widening. The edge of the drawer bit painfully into his back. As the boy pushed himself closer, Newt realised he stank strongly of alcohol. "Alby! What the hell-" he shouted, but was cut off as Alby suddenly lifted him on top of the drawer, pushing against him and freezing Newt, the clothes stumbling to the floor from his hands.

Alby held him tightly, squeezing his arms with such force that made Newt's eyes water. The dark-skinned boy ignored the trembling boy in his arms as he sneered, "You know how I recognize your way of looking at him? It's because you used to look me the same way." Newt stared at him, utterly speechless. Alby growled and attacked Newt's lips that were slightly parted from shock.

Newt's brain shut down for a moment. He couldn't believe the situation he found himself in. Was Alby – the kind, loving, caring Alby – trying to- _No!_

In a flash Newt became aware again of the way Alby's tongue was assaulting his mouth and the way his hips ground against him. He tore his mouth away from Alby's attack and pushed the older boy hard to the chest with his other hand. The boy hardly flinched and gripped his hair again, tightly.

"Alby, stop this! You're hurting me-" Newt tried to plead, desperation and hurt and anger mixing on his voice but Alby claimed his mouth again, unrelentingly.

Suddenly Newt's ears registered the sound of a door opening on the opposite side of the room. He turned his head slightly to stare at the intruder and as he realised just who exactly it was standing there, Newt felt coldness and fear swallow him completely.

"Newt? I-" Thomas, clothed in his old and bloody rags, started as his gaze swept over the room but was immediately cut off as his eyes descended on the two boys at the other side of the room. Thomas's eyes widened and he stumbled a step back, looking as if he'd just been punched in the face. His lips thinned into a grim line, a cold detachment and hurt mixing in his eyes, and he stumbled out of the room as fast as he had burst in just a moment ago.

Newt felt his insides turn cold all over. He could only imagine what the situation must've seemed like for Thomas. Newt was basically draped all over Alby from Thomas's point of view. Newt's hands against Alby's chest, his legs on both sides of the other boy's waist, Alby hovering over him and kissing him hard. He felt some strength flow through his limbs as an irresistible urge to run after the dark-haired Greenie overwhelmed him. Newt snapped out of his momentary shock and he bit down Alby's lips, hard, and finally managed to tore his mouth free again.

"Thomas, wait!" Newt shouted, desperation clear on his voice as he planted his hand against Alby's chest, once again trying to push free. All of it was in vain though, since the door slammed tightly shut after Thomas. It was too late.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Early update again because I love you. Chapter 10 is up! Hearing your thoughts still make the happiest, so please keep reviews coming! Enjoy! x

* * *

_Anywhere I would've followed you_

_Say something, I'm giving up on you_

As Newt's shout echoed through the room, Alby seemed to suddenly freeze against him. He stared at Newt, his eyes narrowed with disbelief as a small trail of blood appeared on his lower lip. Newt realised his chance and pushed Alby off of him with all his force, pulling his knees up to thrust them against the boy's stomach.

Alby grunted loudly, stumbling backwards and releasing his grasp on Newt. The blonde-haired boy slid back to the floor, his breath shuddering in his chest, shock and fear mixing inside him. Newt started to make his way quickly towards the door but stopped short as Alby's words cut through him.

"There you go again, running after your precious boyfriend. You do realise you're proving me exactly right with everything you're doing right now?" Alby sneered, crossing his arms over his chest, looking at Newt with such contempt he felt it slice across his heart. "Go ahead, go begging and kneeling before your Greenie and try to explain to him how you're playing with two boys at the same time. That's pretty low coming from you, Newt. I didn't realise you'd-"

Something snapped inside Newt, as if someone had lit up a lighter and dropped it into a puddle of gasoline. "SHUT THE BLOODY FUCK UP, ALBY!" the words burst out of Newt's mouth and he was suddenly standing right before Alby, his eyes wide and full of hurt and anger. "You have no bloody clue as to what you're talking about! I'm not playing with a bloody soul here! You have absolutely no right to talk to me like that. Tommy is not my boyfriend nor are you! You, you bloody shuckface, make me feel ashamed I ever had anything to do with you! I can't believe the way you're acting right now!"

Newt's chest was rising and falling rapidly and his fists were tight on his sides. Alby stared at him, his mouth hanging open and wide-eyed, something shifting behind those dark, slightly bloodshot eyes. Newt felt tears stinging in his eyes as his rage slowly started to dissipate. He took a stumbling step back, letting out a shuddering exhale.

"I can't believe that you, Alby, of all people, would do something like that to me. I thought I could trust you," Newt whispered, his voice low with surrender. He started backing away and stopped at the door one more time before closing it behind him. "I guess I was wrong."

*.*.*

Thomas was nowhere to be found in the Homestead. There was barely anyone there anyway since most of the Gladers had already gone outside. Even the Med-jacks had disappeared somewhere. Worry started to eat its way through Newt as he was sure the stubborn Greenie hadn't paid a visit to neither Jeff nor Clint to check his condition.

As Newt made his way out of the building, he swept a hand over his tired face. His world was crumbling down around him but he couldn't give in to the desperation just yet. He just had to find Tommy and everything would be alright again. He had to see him, he had to talk to him, he had to explain.. even though he had no buggin' idea as to what exactly he was going to say to the boy. Things really weren't that simple between them, especially these days.

Newt narrowed his eyes as his gaze descended on a familiar, short boy making his way over the grass, his shoulders slumped. The curly-haired boy seemed to be even more upset than in the morning, raising Newt's suspicions. Newt started to walk briskly towards him.

"Hey, Chuck! Wait up a little!" Newt called, slowing down as he got near the boy who had turned around to face him. Chuck's miserable eyes glanced at him shortly before settling on the ground again.

"Has something happened?" Newt frowned, a sliver of worry for the young boy crossing his features. The boy only shrugged in response, not raising his gaze from his shoes. Newt crouched down slightly, putting his head to the same level as Chuck's.

"Listen, Chuck.. Have you-" Newt had to swallow hard as he tried to get rid of the lump that had settled on his throat. "Have you seen Tommy?"

At that Chuck's head snapped up, his huge, tearful eyes meeting Newt's own. The younger boy's lower lip quivered a little as he whispered, "He doesn't want to see anyone. He- he told me to leave him alone. I-I've been worried about him the whole night and then he just-" Chuck let out a small, choking sound as he waved his hand weakly towards the forest far behind them, blinking furiously and avoiding Newt's gaze again.

Newt put his hand on Chuck's shoulder, squeezing tight. "Hey, Chuck, Tommy isn't angry with you. Whatever he said, he didn't mean it. He's – he's just-" Newt had to pause and close his eyes. "He's not thinking straight, 's all I'm saying. I'm gonna talk to him, don't worry."

Chuck raised his tear-stained face and murmured, "Will Thomas be alright again?"

Newt smiled at him weakly, trying to look as reassuring as possible. "Of course he will. He's one bloody tough Greenie," Newt answered, clapping the boy to the shoulder twice before straightening up. "Cheer up, Chuck."

Chuck watched as Newt stepped past him, starting to make his way toward the forest, his heart pounding restlessly in his chest.

*.*.*

Newt walked through the woods slowly. He kept turning his head from side to side, observing his surroundings the best he could, calling out to Thomas every now and then. The trees stood silently and there were no birds singing or bustling through the foliage. An uneasy feeling kept turning Newt's stomach into tight knots.

"Tommy? Please, come out and talk to me," Newt pleaded again. He stepped over a fallen tree trunk carefully, when suddenly a hard, cold voice came from ahead.

"I don't want to talk to you."

Newt froze, taking in a startled breath. He stared at the large tree slightly to his right. He was sure the voice had come behind it. He swallowed and closed his eyes tightly for a second, mentally bracing himself for the confrontation.

"Tommy, please, just listen to me. I can-" Newt tried but was cut off fast by Thomas who burst out from behind the tree, trembling visibly as he stared at Newt, his eyes full of rage, hurt and accusation.

"Explain? You want to explain?" Thomas growled, taking a step closer. "Of course you do. What if I don't want to listen to your lame lies-"

"Tommy, I would never lie to you!" Newt shouted, desperate. "What you saw – me and Alby – it- it wasn't what you think it was. He's not- We're not-" Newt tried, his words stumbling over each other.

Thomas let out a short, cold laugh that sent shivers of despair through Newt. "Are you saying you haven't been together with Alby this whole time? Because if that's what you were gonna say, I don't believe you. It sure as hell didn't look like you two were just friends back there," Thomas snarled, furious. "I can't believe that for a moment I almost-" Thomas's eyes widened suddenly and he whirled around, starting to storm away from Newt.

Newt gaped after him, his mouth hanging open from shock for a second before he strode after Thomas.

"Tommy, wait! Alby and me-"

"I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT, OKAY?" Thomas suddenly turned around again, his chest rising and falling from furious breaths. "It's none of my business if you get off by looking after poor little Greenies, pretending like you care and then go laughing behind our backs, thinking how stupid we are while throwing yourself all over-"

Something in the way Newt's face whited completely and the way his eyes turned almost pitch-black, guarded and extremely distant, made Thomas's voice suddenly quiet down and the boy swallowed the rest of his sentence.

"Is that really what you think of me, Greenie?" Newt's voice was suddenly full of ice.

Thomas just stared at him, wide-eyed.

Newt looked him straight in the eyes for a moment, looking at Thomas as if he was a stranger.

"Fuck you, Thomas."

And with that, Newt turned around and walked away.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Wow, your amazing response to chapter 10 totally overwhelmed me! I can't thank you enough, all the wonderful reviews you wrote made me so very happy! You're the best.

Christmas is finally just around the corner! Soon all the rush and hurries will be over and we can just sit down and enjoy our holidays with our loved ones. Here's a little Christmas present for you! I'm afraid this chapter isn't exactly one of the happiest I've ever written, but it's a new chapter after all. I wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays! x

* * *

_It's everything you wanted, it's everything you don't  
It's one door swinging open and one door swinging closed_

Newt stumbled his way through the thick bushes and knee-length grass as he wandered off the path in the forest, tears in his eyes blurring his sight. Sharp branches kept cutting the skin of his face and arms as he pushed through the shrubbery, breathing in uneven gasps, his heart pounding painfully, unevenly in his chest.

His ears kept listening to every possible sound of approach behind him, hoping with a false hope that the dark-haired boy would come after him. At the same time he could feel desperation, hurt and grief eating their way through his heart, knowing full well no one would follow him.

_He hates you, he hates you, he hates you.._

_What the hell were you even thinking?_

_How could you possibly be so bloody stupid as to even believe for a second he could feel something for you?_

_He can't even stand looking at you anymore._

_You're nothing, nothing, nothing.._

_They were just dreams. Just dreams._

_None of it was real._

Newt's foot suddenly got stuck under a thick root sticking out of the ground. He fell hard to the ground, yelping in surprise and then growling in pain. A sharp ache sliced through his left shoulder as it hit the forest floor since he didn't manage to soften the fall in any way. His lungs were out of breath and for a moment his vision went black, white dots dancing behind his eyelids.

As the pain started to slowly subside, Newt rolled gently to his back. He opened his eyes and stared at the trees hovering high over him, coloring the world with all the different shades of brown and green. He tried to draw some air into his lungs again and felt tears slipping from the corners of his eyes.

All the fury and anger had drained off of him only to be replaced by overwhelming hurt, grief and misery. He could still feel the all consuming hatred radiating off Thomas's whole being. He could still hear the harsh words, the accusations, the contempt in his voice. Thomas's eyes had been so cold, so accusing.. _How could he say things like that to me? Why wouldn't he listen to me when I tried to explain?_

Newt had to shut his eyes tightly as he felt another fresh wound stinging and starting to bleed inside him. The memories of drunken Alby flooded his mind; his unfocused gaze; his clinging, bruising fingers; his jealous, sneery voice; his forceful, unyielding hold of him.. It all was so unlike Alby and it still felt so bizarre Newt could hardly believe it had happened at all. Yet, there were way too many reminders of all that had happened in the past few hours, the least of them being the stinging bruises in his arms and his sore lips.

"How could you do that to me?" the words slipped past Newt's trembling lips, a whisper of pain and disbelief in the quiet forest around him. Alby's behaviour had scarred Newt deeper than he could've thought possible. After all, the dark-skinned, gentle and fair boy had been his anchor all these years. Alby had been there during Newt's darkest days and helped him get to his feet again. Newt had always been able to trust Alby unconditionally and lean on his steady, strong and warm presence whenever he needed it. Their relationship hadn't been entirely platonic, and they had had their moments, but all the crush Newt had had on Alby at some point over the years had faded long ago. He loved Alby, but he couldn't see a future with him. Alby didn't make his heart jump to his throat, he didn't make him loose sleep for dreaming about him, he didn't make him feel warm and tingly all over whenever their eyes locked. Alby wasn't anything like Thomas was to him.

Since the day Thomas had arrived to the Glade, the dark-haired Greenie had grown to mean more and more to Newt. He had slowly but surely sneaked his way straight to Newt's heart. By now Newt already realised his feelings towards Thomas weren't anything to take lightly. It wasn't just a passing crush or a shallow need. What he felt for Thomas was something way more deeper. Even though the two of them had known each other for barely two weeks, in his heart Newt knew he had never felt this way towards anyone else in his life, past or present, and probably never would. They shared the kind of connection he would be a fool not to acknowledge it.

The fact that both Alby and Thomas hated him and thought Newt was now the kind of person he had always stood strictly against was enough to make Newt's walls crumble down finally and completely. He curled on his side on the dirty forest floor, hugging his knees and burying his face against them as violent sobs started to escape his throat, his whole body trembling. The lack of sleep, all the shocks and the roller-coaster of emotions his mind had been through for the past hours, days to be honest, were starting to overwhelm him for good. Tears streaming down his face, Newt finally succumbed to the black abyss swirling through his mind, body and soul.

*.*.*

"Hey, Newt, wake up."

There was a hand on Newt's shoulder, shaking him slightly. Newt drew in a fast, sharp breath and started to blink his heavy eyelids open. He turned his head slightly, his stiffened neck cracking a bit as his eyes tried to focus on the boy hovering over him.

"Minho?" Newt croaked, his voice hoarse from sleep. Slowly he started to become aware of his surroundings and the aches on his body. He frowned deeply as he eyed the darkened forest around him.

"Yeah. Man, you're a mess. Figured it'd be best to get you out of the woods already," Minho muttered, crouched down beside him.

Something about Minho's words and the fact that the light of the day had remarkably changed was bugging in the back of Newt's mind. "Wait, are you saying I've been bloody sleeping all day?" he asked, horrified.

Minho shrugged. "I guess you have, princess. Everyone whom I asked about you were saying they had only seen you shortly in the morning. They figured you didn't want to be found so they left you alone. When I came back from the Maze you were nowhere to be found so I got worried and here I am," Minho smirked at him good-naturedly.

Newt had risen to lean on his elbows and swept a hand through his dirty hair. Minho looked at him with scrutinizing eyes.

"Newt, are you okay?" Minho asked, his voice laced with worry, his eyebrows drawn.

Newt sighed heavily. "No, Minho, I'm not okay," he answered truthfully. Minho looked as if he was gonna say something but Newt cut him off fast, "Let's just get out of here, okay?"

Minho closed his mouth and nodded, helping Newt to get up. As Minho hooked his arm behind Newt's shoulders, helping to steady him, Newt pushed him off, mock-irritated. "I'm not a bloody baby, Minho!" Newt scowled but his eyes betrayed him. He looked at Minho with warm gratitude in his eyes as he nodded his head to sign they should get going.

Minho smiled at Newt and clapped the blonde-haired boy to his back before falling to step beside him.

*.*.*

Newt went straight to the showers. He wondered his luck as he found the small room completely empty. He stripped quickly and stepped under the spray of water. As the warm water hit against the sore muscles of his back and ran over his filthy skin, Newt's mind was blessingly empty. Eyes closed, he stood under the spray for good fifteen minutes before using the soap and cleaning his body.

Newt grimaced slightly as he realised he had to wear the same clothes he had arrived with. Accepting his fate, he toweled his hair and put his clothes on, swearing to change them as soon as he arrived to his own room.

Minho was waiting for him outside the shower room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He smirked happily as Newt stepped out of the door.

"Ah, you start to look like a human being again," Minho quipped. He stepped forward, handing Newt a bag he had been holding in his other fist. Newt scowled but accepted the bag, taking a look inside. A delicious smell of fresh bread rolls, apples and goat cheese hit his nostrils and his stomach let out a loud growl.

Minho snickered. "Figured you might be hungry by now."

Newt closed the door and looked at his friend, a warm feeling squeezing his chest. "Thanks, Minho. Really."

"Nah, it's nothing. Anything for my buddy," Minho reassured, winking his eye.

Newt let out a laugh, feeling remarkably better than just hours ago. "Listen, I think I'm gonna head off for my room. I feel I could get back to bed already and anyway, I.." Newt's voice grew unsure by the end of his sentence.

Minho came to his help quickly. "I get it. Go ahead, sleepyhead. You sure could use all the sleep you can possibly get. I wonder if those bags under your eyes will ever smooth down," Minho said with a wondering tone. Newt slapped him in the arm but Minho only laughed.

"Okay, okay. See ya tomorrow, shank," Minho farewelled, raising his hand and starting to back away.

"Good that," Newt answered. He watched as the Asian boy walked back towards the kitchen. Newt sighed, turning around and starting to make his way toward the Homestead. Stubbornly he kept his thoughts on his warm bed waiting for him in his room. He wouldn't let his mind slip astray. Sleep would let him forget the pain hovering in his chest. Sleep was the only thing he needed.

Oddly enough, as soon as Newt rested his head on his pillow after having eaten and changed, dreams claimed him, enfolding his exhausted mind like the warm blanket around his body.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Hi there! Christmas is now behind and New Year is ahead. I wish you all had a lovely Christmas, and I wish you a Happy New Year! Have fun and stay safe, okay?

Here's the next chapter for you. There's something about this one that I'm really satisfied with, so I hope it will please you as well! As usual, your reviews rock my socks! I'll see you guys next year!

PS Last week I also made an ao3 acc with this same username and posted an one shot there. If you like my writing, please go check it out as well and share your thoughts!

* * *

__Can't erase, so I'll take blame  
_But I can't accept that we're estranged_

Newt couldn't find him anywhere. He had checked every single room in the Homestead, wandered through the Fields, checked the kitchen twice and even visited the Slicer's. Thomas was nowhere to be found.

Newt swept frustrated hands through his hair. He tried to draw a mental map inside his head about all the possible places he still hadn't checked. As he slowly turned around in front of the Homestead again, his gaze fell upon the expanse of the trees in the distance. The answer was almost too obvious to be true. Growling, Newt started to make his way quickly towards the shade of the trees, his legs already knowing where to take him.

His heart started to pound hard in his chest as he got nearer to the familiar place. And, right on cue, when Newt stepped over that particular fallen tree, he could make out a shape of a human body leaning against a tree few yards away. Newt's step faltered a bit as he took in the delicate profile of the dark-haired boy as he stood there, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers, his head hanging low, gazing at his own feet. He looked so beautiful in the faint light shining through the leaves that the sight of him hurt Newt's heart.

As Newt draw in a shuddering breath, frozen to the spot, Thomas suddenly raised his head and looked straight into Newt. A small smile appeared on his lips that made something inside Newt crack, and then he couldn't take it anymore. He rushed forward, his limp standing out visibly, and soon he had thrown himself against Thomas's strong chest, desperate sobs escaping his throat. He curled his fists tightly into Thomas's shirt and felt the other boy's arms come around him, smoothing up and down his back.

Newt buried his face in the crook of Thomas's neck, inhaling his scent and letting the tears slowly subside. Eventually he opened his eyes again and pulled slightly away, gazing into Thomas's gentle eyes.

"Tommy, I'm so sorry for everything, I just- can you ever forgive me?" Newt pleaded, his voice weak and tears gathering to the corners of his eyes again.

Thomas gazed at him quietly for a while, sighed and averted his gaze, lowering his head. There was a troubled wrinkle between his eyebrows that made Newt's heart skip a beat, a sickening feeling growing in his stomach.

"T-tommy?" Newt repeated, his voice trembling and tears slipping from the corners of his eyes.

Thomas's hands moved from his back to his arms, rising slowly to curl around his shoulders and gently pushing them apart.

"I don't know, Newt. I barely know you."

The words hit Newt deep, twisting in his flesh like a dagger. He felt his knees buckle a bit under him and if Thomas hadn't still had his hands around his shoulders, he would've fallen to his knees. He stared at the dark-haired boy, eyes wide with shock and mouth slightly parted.

The hazel eyes looked back at him but there was no emotion behind them. They were cool and guarded, not giving out what was really going on on the younger boy's mind.

As Thomas started to ease his hold on Newt's shoulders, Newt suddenly gasped and hurried to get the words out of his mouth, "W-why are you being like this? Why a-are you holding me close and watching me with caring eyes in one moment and then staring at me with that cold, emotionless gaze in the other? What is going on?" The pain in Newt's chest twisted deeper by every word slipping past his lips.

Thomas eyed him, frowning slightly and sighing softly. He shook his head a bit, rising his other hand and cupping the back of Newt's head gently, burying his fingers into his hair and pulling the shaking boy against his chest once more. Newt stared wide-eyed over his shoulder, not quite knowing what the hell was happening.

"It doesn't matter, Newt. After all, you're only dreaming."

*.*.*

The next few days were kind of a blur for Newt. After having dreamed of Thomas and the forest, Newt felt as if he had somehow lost his footing altogether. He realised the Thomas of his dreams was just that; a figment of his imagination. He wasn't real. The real Thomas wouldn't welcome him with open arms and kiss everything okay again. Thomas in the dream had been right, they barely knew each other. Newt had no idea how Thomas would handle these kind of things but he knew the boy wouldn't just forgive him if he thought Newt was just using him. The fact that Thomas's image of him would be this easily swayed had been shredding Newt's heart to pieces all this time but he also knew how stubborn the boy could be.

But Newt could be stubborn as well. He wouldn't just run to Thomas and beg him on his knees, apologizing for the things he hadn't done. Even if that was what his subconscious seemingly wanted him to do, he wouldn't let Thomas get out of this so easily. Though, lately Newt had come to realise that punishing Thomas meant punishing himself as well.

The day after his dream Newt had been even more conflicted than he ever could've imagined and he sure as hell didn't want to see Thomas. Luckily for Newt, avoiding Thomas became much easier since the next morning Ben had been released from the Slammer and Thomas had been thrown in there instead. Yes, avoiding someone was much easier when the said person would be locked in a small room without any occupation than his own thoughts for two days.

Newt's master plan had turned out to be harder to bear than he first thought. Instead of feeling relieved and unaffected, he had this hollow ache in his chest that he just couldn't shake. It followed him everywhere and intensified whenever his thoughts slipped back to the dark-haired boy. Newt had found that mechanical, repetitive work such as chopping firewood, picking weeds and watering the plants helped his messed up and noisy mind calm down into this haze in which he didn't really make out the surrounding world and other people. That suited him just fine, too.

But the change in Newt's demeanor didn't go unnoticed by others around him. Weird, and sometimes even worried, glances were shot his way whenever Newt walked past or worked silently in the Fields.

On the third day of such behaviour, Minho couldn't take it anymore.

Newt had been tending the land for good few hours straight. He was ditching the small field where they had planted new plants the other day, digging his shovel into the dry ground again and again. His shirt was sticking to his skin with sweat, his eyes oblivious to the world around him other than the browns and greens and greys of the ground.

Suddenly someone seized a hold of Newt's shovel just as he was about to strike it down, stopping his movement abruptly. Newt's forehead creased with confusion as he turned his head toward the intruder.

"Minho? What the hell?" he growled, trying to tug the shovel away from the other boy's grasp.

"Nuh-uh, buddy," the black-haired boy said sternly, snatching the object from Newt's hands altogether. "Dude, what's going on with you? You sure look like death these days. When was the last time you took a break today?"

Newt scowled at his friend, sweeping his hand over his dirty face, exhaling heavily. "What does it bloody matter? I'm fine! Leave me alone, Minho," Newt snarled, reaching for the shovel again.

Minho stepped back, keeping it out of the blonde-haired boy's reach. "That's not gonna happen, Newt." He stuck the shovel to the ground and took a firm hold over Newt's shoulders, starting to guide him toward the shade of the trees on their right. "Come on, shank, you're taking a break right here and now," Minho smirked in an unyielding manner.

Newt had barely time to realize what had happened as his sore legs started to move. He didn't find the energy to resist as Minho walked him over to the trees and sat him down on the large rock, the burn of the sun cut off by the thick foliage above them.

Minho sat down on a smaller rock opposite him, leaning his elbows to his knees and eyeing Newt warily, a sliver of worry etched in his features.

"Now, just spit it out, Newt," the boy demanded sternly.

Newt raised his gaze to his friend's troubled eyes, feeling more exhausted than ever. He tried his best to play it off, though. "I'm bloody fine, just-"

"No, you're bloody not fine!" Minho shouted suddenly, his voice raising so that it struck Newt silent immediately. "Anyone with a working pair of eyes could see you're everything but fine! You barely eat, you barely talk, you walk with your shoulders hunched and your eyes seem to just stare into nothingness most of the time. That's the equivalent of _very much not fine_."

Newt's mouth drew into a thin line as he avoided Minho's gaze stubbornly.

There was a long sigh as Minho asked after a moment of silence, "This is about Thomas, isn't it?"

Newt's head snapped up in a flash, his eyes wide and a tremble climbing up his spine at the mention of the Greenie. He blinked his eyes furiously as his vision started to blur against his will, and he had to lower his gaze again.

A slow smile spread over Minho's face. "Thought so," the boy chuckled good-heartedly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Newt mumbled, an angry frown on his face.

"Aw c'mon dude, we've all seen the way you two look at each other. Truth be told, it's kinda hard to miss," Minho smirked knowingly.

Newt growled and shoved his friend with his foot. Minho just chuckled again, an amused grin on his face.

"So, what's the problem? You like him, he likes you. It should be simple, right?" Minho urged.

A grimace took over Newt's face again after a second of lightness in his heart. All the worries, doubts and misunderstandings filled his mind yet again and his voice was full of regret as he uttered the words, "Tommy doesn't _like_ me. He despises me."

Minho frowned at him, straightening his spine. "Now why would you say that?"

Newt felt his eyes starting to fill again as he quietly told Minho what had happened with Alby and how Thomas had burst in right in the middle of it all, and all about the fight in the woods. As he told what Alby had done, Minho went visibly rigid beside him, his face turning disgusted and then murderous, but Newt quickly talked him out of it and slowly Minho slimmed himself again, swallowing the harsh words and restraining his urge to break something. After Newt was finished, he had to try to clear his throat from the lump that had gathered there during his story, a tear slipping down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, hoping Minho hadn't seen it.

"I'm just.. so tired all the time. I don't know what the hell I'm even doing. I just.. I just feel so empty and I can't stop thinking about him," Newt whispered, a pain clear on his voice.

Minho was quiet for a while. Then he whistled low between his teeth. "Wow. Man, you're so shucked. Shucked for good, it seems. Jeez," the Runner wondered, ruffling his hands through his hair. Newt scowled at him, irritated and a little hurt by his friend's response.

"Stating the obvious, aren't ya?" Newt spat.

Minho stared at him, raising his hands. "Whoa, easy there. I didn't mean to be a shuck-head about it. I just.. had no idea how deep you've fallen, mate." There was a gentle smile tugging at the edges of his lips. "I can see this is pretty big for you.. But you know what? You aren't the only one who's suffering. The only guy I've ever seen as devastated as you is sitting inside the Slammer right at this moment. First I thought his gloomy mind was just due to his punishment, but now I think I know better than that."

Minho stood up, crouching before Newt and putting a firm hand on his shoulder, looking his friend straight into his eyes. "Listen, Thomas doesn't hate you. He never has."

Newt stared back at him, swallowing hard under the earnestness radiating off of Minho's voice. Then a wicked smirk started to work its way onto Minho's lips.

"Tommy-boy is just as head over heels with you as-"

"Shut it! You bastard," Newt grunted, a deep blush coloring his cheeks.

Minho snickered, straightening up and crossing his arms lightly over his chest.

"Seriously, though, you two gotta get your shit together. For all our sakes. I'm not fond of looking after you two hopeless shanks being all miserable for a day more than necessary," Minho stated, his eyebrows raised challengingly.

Newt shook his head, leaning his palms to the rough surface of the rock under him. "Easier said than bloody done, that. Tommy won't even listen to me."

Minho squinted his eyes and looked at his friend speculatively, clearly pondering something inside his mind. Then his face suddenly cleared, a knowing smirk appearing on his lips.

"Let me handle this, buddy. I'm gonna get you two a chance to talk to each other in peace. Trust me," Minho winked at him. Newt was extremely suspicious about the whole turn of events and opened his mouth to protest but Minho raised his hand, stopping him.

"No buts. Minho has it all figured out. Now, let's go and get you some food. You look like you're gonna pass out any second."

Newt really didn't have enough willpower to fight Minho anymore at this point.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **It's the last day of my Christmas holidays and soon the school will be messing up my head again. Luckily I got a lot of stuff figured out considering my fic during the holidays and I'm excited to share it with you guys. Thanks so much for keeping up with me and supporting my story! I'm very grateful for each and every one of you!

Here's something most of you have probably been waiting for.. Please share your thoughts with me and enjoy! x

* * *

__Tell me do you feel the same  
Hold me in your arms again __

Newt had been pacing a small circle in front of the door leading to the showers for a good thirty minutes. He had barely got any sleep at all last night. Again. This time it was all Minho's fault.

Just as Newt had been about to climb the stairs in the Homestead to finally fall to his own, soft bed and sleep all the exhaustion away, Minho had stopped him by slipping a small piece of paper into his hand and winking at him before disappearing again. Newt had blinked after him a couple of times before taking the rest of the steps upstairs and opening the folded note in the peace of his room.

_"The showers. 6am. Take all the time you need."_

Newt still had his old Runner watch but he hadn't worn it after he stopped running. He had kept it in the small drawer of his bedside table ever since, only occassionally taking a look at it. Time didn't matter in the Glade as much as it did in the Maze and anyway, over the years Newt had developed quite a skill to tell the time by the changes in the light, the move of the walls and other regular, everyday things happening around them.

Last night, however, he had squeezed the small watch in his fist, lying on his back on the bed and staring at the roof of his room, sneaking glances at the small watch every few minutes. He had dozed off only momentarily and when it was five o'clock in the morning, he just couldn't lie still anymore and he made his way out of the Homestead altogether.

And here he was now, waiting for Thomas to finally arrive.

He swept his hands over his face and hair for the umpteenth time, groaning softly.

"Get a bloody grip," he muttered quietly, irritated with himself.

Newt exhaled heavily and stopped his mindless pacing finally, leaning against the door and sliding down slowly to sit on the step before the door. He pulled his knees up, hanging his head between them and trying to get his beating heart under control.

He sat there silently for several minutes before he heard the unmistakable sound of approaching steps. Newt's head snapped up and his pulse started to speed up immediately.

Newt had no time left to prepare himself as suddenly Thomas burst out from the left corner of the building, stopping in his tracks as soon as his eyes descended on Newt. Newt felt something expand in his chest for seeing the Greenie again, first time in days, and felt the irrational urge to run and throw himself in his arms as he did in his dream. His cheeks colouring slightly pink, Newt rose back to his feet, never breaking the delicate eye contact.

Finally Thomas appeared to come back to his senses and the vulnerability on his face that the surprise of seeing Newt there had created was quickly replaced by the emotionless, unreadable mask of indifference again.

"What are you doing here?" Thomas demanded. All the walls between them were back in mere seconds and Newt's heart twisted painfully in his chest.

"I need to talk to you, Tommy, and I need you to listen to me," Newt said, taking a small step closer, gazing steadily into Thomas's eyes.

"Really? We haven't talked to each other in days and we've managed just fine. I'd say we just keep it that way," Thomas remarked, his fists curling by his sides. Newt didn't miss the slight tremble in Thomas's voice, though.

"No! I'm not letting you get away with this. I'm not letting your bloody stubborness come between us anymore! There's something I have to say and you're bloody well gonna listen to me!" Newt shouted, his body trembling and betraying him as tears moistened in his eyes. He draw in a sharp breath; he wouldn't let the tears slip.

Thomas stared at him, slightly taken aback by Newt's sudden outburst. Thomas opened his mouth slightly but before the boy could say anything, Newt cut him off.

"You want to hear the truth, Tommy? Because that's what you're gonna get. Since the day I met you, I've been slowly going mad. It's not enough that I can barely keep my eyes off of you during the day, you have to bloody sneak up to my dreams when I sleep and keep me awake for days straight because I just can't stop thinking about you. I've been trying to fight it because bloody hell, this isn't anything I've ever experienced before and I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do. But I'm bloody sure I've been one shucking mess since you freaked out about Alby and wouldn't talk to me anymore. And I'm bloody sure I'm not losing you because of some stupid misunderstanding that would've been over and done with ages ago if you would've just listened to me!"

Newt swallowed hard, feeling slightly light-headed after the words had poured out of his mouth, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Thomas gazed at him, wide-eyed, the mask slipping from his face completely by Newt's words. His eyes were full of wonder and the boy looked like he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"I-I never thought you.. I thought.. you were with Alby?" Thomas mumbled, clearly having trouble trying to find the words.

Newt shook his head tiredly. "Me and Alby have history, yes, but things have ended between us months ago. They had ended for me, at least. I wasn't really expecting Alby to force himself on me like he did the other day.." Newt's voice drifted off, pain appearing on his features. It still wasn't easy to talk about the incident aloud.

"Wait, are you saying that..? Oh my God," Thomas uttered, shock taking over his face. "He.. He hurt you?" Thomas stared at Newt's eyes intently and seemed to find the answer there as the boy suddenly swore loudly, raising his trembling hands to tug at his hair. "I will fucking kill that bastard."

Newt twitched visibly at the sudden rage in Thomas's voice, "Thomas, stop it, it's okay-"

"It's not shucking OKAY, Newt, he-" Thomas shouted but stopped short as he glanced at Newt again and noticed how on edge the boy already was. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down for Newt's sake. Then a new thought appeared to have crossed his mind as the boy suddenly groaned.

"Oh man, I can't believe what an ass I've been.. Newt, I'm so, so sorry."

Without thinking, Thomas had started to close the distance between them, stopping a mere yard away. His eyes were full of regret and concern and Newt's breath hitched in his chest by the intensity in Thomas's gaze.

"Newt.. I swear I had no idea.. Are you alright?" Thomas asked him urgently, raising his hand but stopping it soon, unsure of what he could and couldn't do.

Newt eyed his hand before taking a step closer and raising his own hand to meet Thomas's, intertwining their slightly trembling fingers together. A slow smile started to spread on his lips as he gazed at the dark-haired boy from under his eyelashes.

"Not really.. But I will be." Then he closed the remaining distance between them, curled his free hand around Thomas's neck and brought their mouths together, kissing his lips softly.

Thomas stood frozen for only a second before he responded to the kiss, moving his lips in sync with Newt's. He brought his own free arm around Newt's waist, drawing him closer. Their joined hands were squeezed between them and they loosened their fingers, moving their palms against each other for a moment before sliding them over each other's bodies.

Newt had dreamed of kissing Thomas so many times but he had to admit not even his wildest imaginations lived up to the reality. There was nothing like the warmth of Thomas's soft lips against his own, his brown, thick hair between his fingers or the strong, lean body quivering against him. There was nothing like the pounding of his heart or the blood rushing through his veins, so very alive and tingling from head to toes.

_This is real._

_This is finally real._

As Newt's tongue swept lightly over Thomas's lower lip, the boy drew in a sharp breath but opened his mouth pliantly for Newt to discover. As their tongues touched, Newt felt a knot unfurling in his stomach and heat spread over his whole body.

Slowly but surely their kisses started to heat up. Thomas's hands were roaming all over Newt's back, his arms, his shoulder blades, the nape of his neck. Newt's both hands had found their way to Thomas's hair but suddenly he brought them to rest on the boy's shoulders, starting to push him backwards until the younger boy's back hit the wall of the building. As the back of Thomas's head was knocked to the wall slightly, the boy drew his mouth momentarily away from Newt's, opening his eyes and gazing at the boy before him with a dazed expression.

Newt panted hard, letting his hands slid lower to settle on Thomas's waist before opening his own eyes and gazing at those hazel eyes intently. Thomas's cheeks were flushed and lips slightly swollen from the kissing.

"Tired already, Tommy?" Newt inquired, his eyebrow arched and a challenge twinkling in his eyes.

"You wish," Thomas growled before claiming Newt's mouth again.

As their mouths were savouring each other, Newt slipped his thumbs beneath the hem of Thomas's shirt, swiping them over the bare skin. Thomas trembled suddenly, drawing in a shuddering breath between kisses. Newt's eager hands disappeared under Thomas's shirt completely, splaying over his hot skin, exploring. Thomas's skin was slightly sticky with sweat and as Thomas's hands grasped his own hips tightly, an idea crossed Newt's heatened thoughts.

"I think you could use a shower, Tommy," Newt smirked against Thomas's lips and drew back just enough to utter the words aloud.

Thomas pushed their foreheads together, opening his eyes and looking at the flushed blonde in front of him. As their eyes locked, the dark-haired boy whispered, "In that case.. I insist to have company."

And quicker than Newt had ever seen him, Thomas seized hold of Newt's arm, threw the door to the showers open and drew Newt in. Suddenly Newt was squeezed between the door and Thomas's strong body, the younger boy snogging him senseless.

Something inside Newt flared up like a bonfire and there was no stopping what was about to happen between them. Shirts were discarded in mere seconds and their trousers, socks and shoes followed suit in no time. Wearing only their underwear, Thomas started backing towards the line of showers on their right, Newt pushing him along.

Thomas gasped loudly as his back hit the cool surface of the tiles. Newt turned the shower on, adjusting the water temperature from cool to warm before stepping under the spray and drawing Thomas against him.

The spray of water hit the boys, drenching them in no time. Their hands didn't seem to get enough of each other's bodies and they kept exploring every exposed inch of skin they could reach. The skin to skin contact had been almost too much, but now when they were both slick with water, the throbbing in Newt's boxers was unbearable. His tongue slid across Thomas's cheek, his teeth nipping the sensitive skin just below his jaw. Thomas moaned aloud and Newt couldn't help rolling his hips against the other boy. The growl that escaped both their throats at the sensation was enough to make Thomas lower his hands on Newt's underwear-clad arse, tugging at the wet fabric impatiently. "I need these off," Thomas murmured, urgency lacing his hoarse voice.

"Go ahead," Newt breathed against Thomas's neck. That was all the assurance Thomas needed, and the boy stripped Newt off his boxers and slipped out of his own as well.

There was absolutely nothing between them now, and as Newt closed the distance between their bodies altogether, the sensation so intense hit him that he was forced to curl his arm around Thomas's back to steady himself.

"Tommy.." Newt whimpered. Thomas cradled Newt's jaw with his palm, making the second-in-command look at him straight in the eyes.

"Newt.. You have no idea what you do to me," Thomas said with such wonder in his voice and eyes that it hurt Newt's heart.

"I have a pretty good idea, actually," Newt murmured as a wicked grin spread over his lips and his hips thrust against Thomas.

Thomas's head arched back with a groan and Newt used the opportunity to plant his lips to the outstretched neck, sucking the delicate skin and nipping it lightly with his teeth. Newt kept moving his hips against Thomas's in an accelerating pace when he felt the other boy's hand wander across his chest and stomach. Thomas turned his head and caught Newt's lips again with his own at the exact moment as his hand curled around their hardened members. Newt's eyes widened and his mouth parted from Thomas's with shock as Thomas moved his hand slowly up and down.

Thomas's eyes were heavy with desire as they locked with Newt's. The blonde-haired boy noted faintly how on edge the Greenie was himself and couldn't help the smirk forming on his lips. But the look on Thomas's eyes was searching.

"Is.. Is this okay?" the boy asked, a tiny sliver of uncertainty creeping to his voice.

Newt groaned and dug his fingers to the skin of Thomas's back as he was holding him close.

"This is bloody amazing, Tommy," Newt managed as Thomas's hand suddenly squeezed a bit tighter around them.

Seemingly satisfied, Thomas picked up his pace, unable to hold it in anymore. Newt curled his arms around Thomas's shoulders and felt himself building up towards the point of utter pleasure.

"Yes, Tommy, faster, yeess-" Newt breathed and Thomas's hand gave them one final swipe that sent them both over the edge almost simultaneously. Newt's moan was so loud it pierced the steady sound of the running water and was muffled as he bit his teeth gently on Thomas's shoulder, almost unconsciously. He registered Thomas's surprised intake of breath only vaguely as the blood rushed through his body.

The two boys sagged against each other, panting hard and curling their arms around each other to hold themselves on their trembling feet.

A smile so wide that it lit up all his features spread on Newt's lips as he buried his face to the crook of Thomas's neck, feeling more content and _right_ than ever before.

_This is finally real._


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Thank you so much for your wonderful response to ch13! Your reviews keep me going and encourage me more than I can say. I appreciate each and every word coming from you!

4 days at school and all the stress and hurries are back as if they never left. I try to find time for writing as well, but since I'm graduating in just a few months, my time is quite limited at the moment.. I must ask for your patience, but I promise I will keep writing and finish this story. It might take longer than I planned, but I won't give up, no matter what.

Now, I'll give you a new chapter to read! Enjoy! x

* * *

_And I wanna call you mine  
Wanna hold your hand forever_

The shower that Newt and Thomas shared was probably the longest one in the Glade's history. Luckily for them, Minho was true to his word and no one came to interrupt them.

When the two of them finally stepped out of the building, stupid smiles plastered on their faces, it was way past their usual breakfast time. They had dumped their clothes into a bag Newt had snatched somewhere in the laundry, deciding to take care of the cleaning later. Instead Newt had found them something else to wear for the time being; there was a cupboard full of spare clothing for the Gladers who didn't have their own drawers like Newt had in his room.

Newt had the smallest clothes he had found from the cupboard, wearing a grey tank top and brown trousers. Thomas had a white shirt that certainly fit him in all the right places and khaki-coloured chinos. Newt kept sneaking glances at the boy beside him, unable to prevent his thoughts from lingering on the memories of how it had felt to touch the skin under all that fabric..

When Thomas caught him looking again, Newt turned his gaze quickly away, but it didn't stop Thomas from taking his hand, squeezing it a bit and murmuring, "What is it?"

Newt bit his lip to prevent the foolish smile tugging at his lips to spread fully on his face. "Nothing. I was just.. looking at you."

"Why were you looking at me?" Thomas whispered, stepping closer to Newt and nudging him lightly with his shoulder.

"Stop it, Tommy. I'm not playing this with you," Newt growled, feeling a blush rising to the skin of his cheeks.

"Whatever you say," Thomas said with a sing-sang voice but suddenly leaned in and pecked Newt to the corner of his mouth, startling the blonde.

Newt stared at Thomas, wide-eyed, but the boy wasn't looking at him anymore. Instead he had this huge, happy smile on his face that shone like the beautiful, bright stars in dark night sky. Newt felt his chest expand with sudden warmness that spread there. He turned his head back and let the smile get the better of him.

_God, I'm such a bloody sap._

The kitchen was empty, just as Newt had thought it would be. There was only Frypan rattling by the cupboards at the back of the room, his back facing them. Newt walked over to the counter and knocked at the wood a few times.

"Oi, Frypan, you got any breakfast left for us?" Newt inquired as the cook turned around to face them, not as startled as last time Newt had secretly confronted him.

Frypan smiled at the sight of them, coming closer. "Well well well, look who we have here! It seems Thomas has outlived his punishment!" He raised his fist for Thomas to bump it with his own, which the dark-haired Greenie did with a laugh.

"Yeah, never been better! Just quite hungry, that's all," Thomas grinned, eyeing Newt with a flash of heat in his eyes that sent a hot wave over Newt, yet again. Newt tried his best to keep his reaction from showing on his face, but probably failed since Frypan raised his eyebrows and kept glancing between them.

"Well, with that I can help," Frypan said, and started to shuffle around the kitchen, bringing the breakfast supplies back to the counter. Newt snatched himself an apple from the bowl whereas Thomas took a plate and started filling it with sandwiches. Frypan took two glasses and filled them with orange juice, handing them to the boys.

"There you go," Frypan smiled and then glanced at the boys' clean clothing and wet hair. A knowing smirk suddenly appeared on his face. "So, I guess the showers are working again, then?"

"Huh? What are you yappin' about?" Newt wondered, accepting the glass and taking an eager sip, not quite realising what the boy meant.

"Let's see, yesterday evening Minho stopped by and talked me into cutting off the water supplies to the kitchen and asked me to back his lie about the whole water supply of the Glade being disabled, including the showers. It appeared he was pretty unyielding on the matter that no one used the showers today. He needed me to prove that the water supply really was disabled so that no one would get any ideas. There was some grumbling amongst the lot but the concrete proof really seemed to convince the few sceptics. Minho used his rather vivid vocabulary to scare off the rest," Frypan explained, snickering. "But it made me wonder why exactly Minho needed the showers deserted. He wouldn't give me a straight answer, just told me he had his own plans and ordered me to keep my mouth shut. I guess his plans had included you two, then, as you appear to actually have showered a while ago."

Newt's eyes widened, a deep blush rising to his face and as he glanced at Thomas, he noted that the other boy was just as taken aback, his mouth gaping open and his cheeks reddening. Newt tried desperately to get a grip and clear his throat, scratching the back of his neck.

"Uh, we- um-" Newt searched for words desperately but his mind was a blank space. Then Frypan burst out laughing.

Thomas and Newt glanced at each other, frowning and then scowled at their friend.

"You- you guys are just so ado-" The two murderous gazes shot at Frypan's way must've been too much since the boy cut his sentence short, shook his head and just grinned, "Nevermind, go eat your breakfasts, finally. I have job to do."

And with that the cook turned around and continued his work as if never interrupted in the first place. Newt and Thomas blinked a few times but backed away to sit around the table, avoiding each other's eyes and starting to eat silently.

After some time Newt felt a foot brushing against his shin gently. He stilled his quiet munching, raising his gaze to meet Thomas's opposite him. The dark-haired boy winked at him, eating his sandwiches happily. Newt shook his head and touched Thomas's knee with his own under the table, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Are you seriously going to survive till lunch by eating only one tiny apple?" Thomas mused, chewing on his second sandwich.

"Sure. Are you seriously going to be able to _eat_ lunch after wolfing down all that?" Newt asked back, raising his eyebrow.

"Hey, I'm a teenager, I need loads of food. Which makes me wonder how you get on by eating so little," Thomas defended himself.

Newt shrugged. "What can I say, I have a small stomach. One that you seemed to be quite fascinated with just a few moments ago," he added with a heated whisper, smirking.

Thomas stared at him, a sly grin working its way to his lips. "Can't deny that," he whispered back as his eyes lowered to Newt's mouth.

"Slim it, Tommy," Newt murmured, nudging Thomas's leg again. Thomas opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly his gaze was locked to something behind Newt, his eyes widening momentarily before settling on a cold, hard stare.

"Tommy?" Newt repeated, worried. Thomas shook his head slightly but Newt had already turned his head around, his heart dropping to his stomach for seeing the familiar boy standing there.

"A-Alby?" Newt croaked, utterly taken aback. He had intentionally avoided the dark-skinned boy during the past few days, unable to confront him after the incident in his room. All the anxiety and hurt was back in mere seconds, his muscles tensing, ready to flee. But he held himself in place because he was fully aware that he would have to have this conversation sooner or later.

Alby stood at the door leading in and out of the kitchen, glancing between Newt and Thomas intently before settling his eyes on Newt's face. His voice was calm and deep, back to normal. "Newt. Can I speak with you for a moment? Privately?" the boy added as he eyed Thomas again.

The legs of the chair creaked against the tiles on the floor as Thomas quickly rose up.

"No," the dark-haired boy stated sternly.

Alby raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. "Excuse me?"

Newt stared at the two boys, dumbfounded.

"No, I'm not letting you alone with Newt. Not after what-" Thomas started but suddenly Newt came to his senses again, rising from the table as well and cutting the boy off quickly.

"No, Tommy, it's okay. I'll talk to him. It's okay," Newt assured, raising his hands in a calming gesture.

Thomas looked between him and Alby with narrowed eyes and Newt could see the inner struggle the boy was going through as their eyes locked. Newt shook his head almost imperceptibly, managing a small smile. In the end Thomas sighed heavily and nodded. He walked around the table and took Newt's hand in his own, squeezing it tightly.

"I'll be just around the corner. Just call out for me, and I'll be here in a second," Thomas whispered to him.

"I know, Tommy. Go," Newt urged, drawing warmth and strength from Thomas's touch before letting him go.

Thomas flashed him a small smile of his own before retreating, scowling at Alby as he passed the boy. Alby scowled back and nodded in acknowledgement for Frypan who disappeared behind Thomas after having listened in the scene.

Then there were only the two of them in the room. Swallowing, Newt raised his gaze to meet Alby's.

"So, let's talk," Newt stated, bracing himself and raising his chin just a bit.

The hard mask that had settled on Alby's face after Thomas had defended Newt in front of him seemed to be swiped away in mere seconds and the boy's whole stance sagged visibly. His arms lost their rigid posture and lowered to rest by his sides as the boy looked at Newt with desperation in his eyes.

"Newt.. I want you to know that I wasn't myself the other day. If I had been, never in my life would I have done any of the things I did that night. I- I know that I lost your trust and I probably don't deserve it anymore, but I can assure you that I will never do anything like that again, ever. You know I've been drinking before, but never have I lost myself so completely as that night.. Clint used alcohol to clean some of Ben's injuries and then somehow we all ended up drinking that stuff and it got out of hand, I admit it. And you can't possibly know how sorry I am, Newt, and how I regret everything about what I did. If only I could take it back.." Alby's voice almost broke by the end of his confession and he had to clear his throat, swiping a hand over his face.

"But you can't." Alby raised his head again as he heard Newt's words. The blonde-haired boy's voice was cold as ice. "You can't take it back. Even though the whatever the hell you had been drinking had messed up your head, the thoughts were surely coming from somewhere. And I can't forget neither the words you said nor the things you did.." Newt had to swallow and close his eyes for a second.

"Things aren't going back to the way they were before, are they?" Alby asked quietly. Newt met his gaze again, and his heart hurt a bit for Alby as he saw the raw sadness swirling in his eyes.

"No, Alby. They aren't," Newt sighed.

Alby lowered his gaze, nodding along, defeated. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again, seeming to have gathered himself a little.

"I understand. But I need to know that we're still able to work together from now on. I can't run this place alone," Alby said, a sliver of uncertainty creeping up to his voice.

"Of course we can work together, Al," Newt assured him. Alby smiled then, and started to close the remaining distance between them. Newt recoiled at the sudden movement and took a step back, his hip hitting the table behind him and shaking it a little. Hurt flashed in Alby's eyes again at Newt's reaction, and the boy stopped a few feet away.

"Friends?" Alby asked then, extending his arm.

"Friends," Newt responded after a moment's hesitation, placing his hand in Alby's and shaking it formally.

Alby drew his hand back quickly, stepping back and allowing more distance between them. Newt was touched by Alby's tact.

"Good that. Now, we have an important matter on our hands," Alby stated.

Newt frowned slightly and asked, "What is it?"

"It's time to have a Gathering and decide what to do with the Greenie, right?" Newt's heart skipped a beat and he got a sick feeling in his stomach before Alby explained better. "He's been here for over two weeks and we have to decide his Keeper here."

Relief washed over Newt in waves and he felt like he could breathe again. "Yeah, of course. After lunch, perhaps?" he suggested.

"That's what I thought as well. I notified Minho about the Gathering before he left running today, so he should be back earlier," Alby said.

"Good that." Newt flashed the tiniest smile at Alby.

Alby smiled back. "Well, see you later, then," he farewelled, starting to retreat to the door.

"Yeah, see ya," Newt said back.

Almost as soon as Alby had stepped out of the room, Thomas stormed in. The boy strode across the room to stand in front of Newt, placed his hands on his shoulders and scanned the boy with his gaze from head to toes. "Are you okay?" he asked in a rushed tone.

Newt rolled his eyes but couldn't help the smile spreading over his lips. He curled his hands around Thomas's waist, bringing them close.

"Yes, Tommy, I'm fine."

And he was. In fact, he felt lighter and happier than he had ever been.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Hello everyone, it's finally time for a new chapter again! For one reason or another, it seems that my chapters are only getting longer and longer.. I hope you can cope with that! Enjoy! x

* * *

__Right in front of me  
Talk some sense to me  
__

Newt and Thomas spent the morning closely together. They went to the Fields to continue the work Newt had begun the day before. Not soon after they had begun, Newt spotted Jeff crossing the grass near them. The fair-haired boy yanked Thomas with him as he ran to meet the Med-jack. Thomas tried to ease himself out of Newt's grasp, whining that there was nothing wrong with him anymore, but Newt was unyielding and insisted that Jeff took one last look at the Greenie.

Back inside the Homestead, Jeff lowered his Med-jack's bag to the table and asked Thomas to strip out of his clothes again so that he could take a look at his remaining injuries. Both Thomas and Newt made a noise of complaint at the same time and glanced at each other quickly. Jeff raised his eyebrows at the two of them.

"I thought it was you, Newt, who insisted for this check-up," Jeff asked in a bit of an accusing tone.

Newt blushed lightly and scratched the back of his neck. "Well, yeah, but I mean – is it really necessary-"

"I'm totally fine, there's no need for-"

"Oh for God's sake, let me just do my job here, okay? Now get out of your clothes, and quickly," Jeff growled, turning around and going through his bag.

Thomas rolled his eyes and glanced at Newt who was biting his lip. A slow smile spread on the dark-haired boy's lips as he quickly threw his shirt over his head and unbuckled his belt, stepping out of his pants, and leaving only his underwear on.

Newt's breath hitched in his chest and he had to swallow hard as his eyes roamed over Thomas's exposed body once again. As he noted the few, fading bruises on his skin that he had missed in the heatened haze of the morning, he felt quilt turning his stomach into knots. He hadn't given much thought to Thomas's lingering bruises and cuts while they both had lost themselves in each other. Newt was just about to step closer as Jeff turned back around and asked Thomas to sit on the bed.

Thomas did as he was told, grudgingly, and let Jeff do his check-up in peace. Newt watched as the Med-jack kept his approach clinical but couldn't quite suppress the hiss that escaped his lips as Jeff placed his hand over the dark bruise on Thomas's side. Thomas took a sharp intake of breath at the pain the touch ignited, but as he heard Newt's hissing the boy raised his head quickly and met Newt's darkened eyes, smiling to him reassuringly.

"Hurts?" Jeff enquired, raising his eyebrows. Thomas nodded, wincing slightly.

Finally Jeff retreated, standing a respecting distance away.

"Alright, it seems you're recovering just fine. The bruise might take a week or so to heal properly since the kick you received in your side was pretty nasty. But other than that.. Do you have any lingering pain, dizziness, troubles with your eyesight, throbbing headache, or any other abnormal symptoms?" Jeff listed with his fingers and Thomas shook his head at his every suggestion.

"Nope, nothing. That's what I've been trying to tell you, I'm as fine as I've ever been," Thomas assured, hopping off the table.

"Alright, good that. There's nothing else I could do for you, then. Now, I gotta hurry to take care of some sick sheep," Jeff muttered, backing away and cursing under his breath. Thomas started putting his clothes back on, chuckling at the Med-jack's swearing. At the door Jeff turned around, having one final thing to say, "Just try to stay out of trouble, Greenie!"

"Yeah, yeah," Thomas said, rolling his eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, the trouble seems to find me, not the other way round."

As the door closed behind Jeff, Newt rushed to Thomas, unable to hold back the growing uneasiness which seeing Jeff so close to Thomas had caused. Thomas yelped as Newt grabbed his bare shoulders, leaning in and kissing him possessively. The dark-haired boy hummed in pleasure, parting his lips under Newt's angry probing and grabbing the blonde's waist.

After a while Newt drew his lips back, pecking Thomas's jaw and resting his forehead on the other boy's shoulder, breathing him in.

"Newt.. Were you actually _jealous_?" Thomas murmured, sweeping his hand over the blond's back, amusement clear on his voice.

A growl worked its way up to Newt's throat. "Shut up, Tommy."

"You know, it was _your_ idea to have this goddamned check-up-"

"God, you're an idiot," Newt scowled, claiming Thomas's mouth again in a quick, passionate, bruising kiss.

As he retreated slightly, Newt looked over Thomas's face, as if searching for something. In the end he sighed, lowering his gaze and swiping his hands over Thomas's abdomen and the few marks of violence there.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you earlier.. I kind of forgot you might still be in pain," Newt whispered, feeling the quilt stab at his stomach again.

Thomas took Newt's face between his palms, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "Hey, look at me. Did I look like I was hurt?" the boy asked, raising his eyebrows and in the end Newt sighed, shaking his head as a smile tried to tug at his lips. "Yeah, that's what I thought," Thomas smiled, swiping his thumbs over Newt's cheekbones.

Newt's eyelids fluttered closed as a shiver of pleasure ran over his skin.

"I only agreed to this because I knew it would reassure you," Thomas said, leaning in little by little. Just as their lips were an mere inch away, he breathed, "From now on, you're the only one allowed to touch me."

Newt gasped as Thomas closed the distance between them again, kissing Newt as if his life depended on it.

*.*.*

A few hours later, the twelve members of the Council made their way to the Homestead. Minho had returned from the Maze just in time for lunch and now the Gathering was just about to begin. Thomas had tried his best to get himself involved in the decision making (_"But you are talking about _my future, _don't you think I deserve a say in the matter?"_), but Newt had been strict and hadn't given in for an inch (_"The rules are the rules, Tommy, whether ya liked it or not. We will call you there when we're ready and you will have a final say about the decision. Can't make any promises, though.. It's always been the Keepers who have decided about the work distribution, and that's the way it's gonna be."_).

Finally Thomas had groaned in surrender and given up with his objections. Newt could clearly see the boy was none too happy about it, but offered him a satisfied smile before nudging the Greenie slightly with his elbow.

"Go, Tommy, I'll see you soon," he had murmured, letting his voice low. Thomas had watched him with a slight pout on his lips but at Newt's tone he offered him a lopsided smile, rolling his eyes a bit before starting to back away, making his way towards the Fields instead.

As Newt was now taking the stairs to the large Council room upstairs, he made a mental note to himself to keep his thoughts from drifting back to the dark-haired Greenie. It might be easier said than done considering the said boy would be the topic of the day, the blond-haired boy realised with a groan. His mind had still difficulties to grasp everything that had happened during this morning. He wondered if he had smiled more in the last few hours than during the last few months in the Glade. His cheeks wouldn't probably be able to keep it up for much longer.

Finally at the right door, Newt drew in a long breath and pulled himself together, swiping the ridiculous smirk from his face. He opened the door, stepped over the threshold and felt his neck flushing inadvertently as he realised he was the last to arrive to the room and everyone was already waiting for him there. He swallowed, closed the door behind him and made his way through the large, plain room towards the semicircle of chairs. He tried his best to keep his face as guarded as possible as he could feel eleven pairs of eyes boring into him.

Newt sat down on the only empty chair in the middle, on the right side of Alby. After having settled and nodded to a couple of boys, he moved his gaze to the left and met Minho's eyes. The Asian boy was smiling smugly and winked at him. Newt resisted the urge to roll his eyes at him and instead turned to Alby. Newt raised his eyebrows in an inquiring manner. Alby nodded to him curtly, cleared his throat and a silence ensued.

"Alright, now that the whole Council is present, I declare this Gathering begun," Alby said with his deep voice, eyeing the Keepers on the both sides of him. "The reason for this Gathering is the same as every month. The question of the day is, where do we put our Newbie, Thomas?"

They had been through this so many times already that Newt couldn't help but wonder how Alby still had the patience to all his formal words in their Gatherings. Newt understood order, but he usually appreciated more straightforward action than tricky, pretty words. He respected traditions, though, as they were quite essential in maintaining order in the Glade, so he would never mention his complaints aloud to Alby and in those few occasions when he had had to run the Gathering by himself, he respected Alby's ways, as well.

"Newt, would you take the notes?" Alby asked him, handing over the notebook and the pen in his lap.

"Sure," Newt said, accepting the tools and setting the tip of the pen on the paper, ready to write.

"Thanks. So, Keepers, what are your impressions of Thomas?" Alby enquired, looking around before settling his eyes to the boy on the far right, the Keeper of the Gardens. Before Alby could urge the boy to tell his opinion, however, there was a loud snort on their left.

"That slinthead's one shucking piece of klunk that will only cause trouble wherever he goes," Gally sneered, his arms crossed over his chest. Newt's fists tightened almost unconsciously on his lap.

Alby turned his narrowed eyes at him. "Did I, by any chance, give you permission to open your mouth?"

Gally shrugged. "You can't deny that-"

"We don't have all day for interruptions, Gally, you know that very well. We will hear each of you out, one by one, and then discuss the propositions. Wait. For. Your. Turn," Alby emphasized every word with such a strong authority in his voice that it caused Gally to back off.

As Alby nodded for Zart, the boy on the far right, to finally speak, Newt eased his whitened knuckles.

The fair-haired, broad-shouldered boy straightened up slightly and said, "Thomas worked really hard in the Gardens. He has strong muscles and clearly could manage physical work in the Fields, too. I would gladly take him to work with me."

Newt scribbled some of Zart's words to the notebook and chuckled inwardly as he recalled Thomas's complaints while they were working together on the Fields and Gardens few hours ago. _If Zart is to be his Keeper, Tommy will be absolutely delighted._ Shaking his head lightly, he raised his gaze again as it was Frypan's turn to speak.

"Thomas is a great fella and I'd gladly keep him around. After putting some thought to this, however, I think kitchen isn't exactly his place. I think it's better to put him somewhere else," Frypan stated, going straight to the point.

Alby was nodding along and asked for the next boy to speak up. He was a black-haired, short boy and in charge of the Sloppers, the least appealing work option in the Glade.

"Well, to be honest, I'm pretty sure we'll be able to figure out something a lil bit more challenging work to do for Thomas than cleaning the toilets," the boy mumbled, not looking like he had much of an opinion about the whole thing. Some of the Keepers rolled their eyes and soon Alby gestured for the next boy to speak aloud.

Winston was smiling and shaking his head while he gave out his thoughts. "I was the first Keeper to have Thomas and I could tell the boy wasn't exactly thrilled with all the slicing and stuff. Not much use of someone like him when it comes to slaughtering. He doesn't really have the blood lust in his eyes, if you know what I mean," the boy sniggered to his own joke, which didn't exactly have the desired effect on others and his laughter died out shortly.

Next up was Newt, but since neither he nor Alby were Keepers, they were skipped, as usual, and the rest of the Keepers were heard out first.

_A hesitant 'maybe' for Med-jacks (not ideal), a 'maybe' for Track-Hoes, a 'no' for Baggers,..._

And then it was Gally's turn.

"I wouldn't take that shank to work with Builders if it was the last choice we had. Can't stand the guy and I'm pretty damn sure the feeling is mutual. I'd say we simply put him with the Sloppers, that's were that shuckhead belongs," Gally scoffed, a smug smile playing on his lips.

Newt's hands were shaking so badly it was no use trying to write a thing down anymore. Somehow Alby seemed to sense that his friend was just about to snap and gave the blond a warning glance. It wasn't easy, but Newt managed to swallow most of the bile that had risen up to his throat and keep his words to himself.

Minho had been silent for the whole ordeal but as Alby finally nodded to him in acknowledgement, the black-haired boy smiled ruefully.

"Not many of you seem to quite know what to do with our Greenie, huh?" Minho enquired, his gaze sweeping over the group of Keepers. "Anyway, I have a suggestion for you. I'd say we make him a Runner Trainee."

That certainly erupted some chatter amongst the boys. Newt stared at Minho for a long time, feelings and thoughts mixing inside him.

_That's what you've been thinking about yourself, too, right?_

_Isn't this what Thomas has been on about the whole time he's been here?_

_There haven't been many who have deserved the chance to be a Runner so soon, but Thomas is definitely one of them, and you know it._

_And you also know Thomas would be great in it, don't you?_

Truth was, Newt believed Thomas would make an excellent Runner. There was no doubt about that. Lately, however, Newt had found himself more and more affected by the thought of Thomas becoming a Runner on a personal level. Being a Runner was nothing to take lightly under any conditions, and just the thought of Thomas _there_, trapped inside the Maze, out of Newt's sight, made Newt's blood run cold in his veins.

Newt was shaken out of his thoughts again as he heard Alby's voice beside him. "Would you care to explain us a bit what has convinced you to suggest something like this, Minho?"

There was a doubt in Alby's voice and Newt was suddenly reminded that their leader didn't think about their newest Greenie as fondly as one would assume.

"Well, for one, he's in perfectly good shape. He has some pretty interesting thoughts in that shuck head of his, and most wickedly.. he isn't afraid of the Maze. Not in the slightest. Since day one, he's clearly indicated his interest and willingness to become a Runner. He saw what's out there through that window on his first day, and he just shrugged it off. He wants to be a Runner more eagerly than any other Greenie I've ever met. And I don't care if that makes it sound like he's been whacked for good.. We don't have enough people like him here. Let's make him a Trainee and I'm shucking sure that he'll prove himself to be one of the best Runners we've ever had."

The smile on Newt's face grew gradually bigger at his friend's words.

Alby regarded Minho silently for a minute. Then he nodded slowly. "I can see you've put thought into this, and as you are the Keeper of the Runners, the Council will trust your judgement." Then Alby turned to Newt. "What do-"

Gally seemed to finally shake himself out of the shock that had taken over him at Minho's words. "That is the stupidest suggestion you've ever stuttered out of your shucking mouth, Minho. Thomas, a Trainee!? That's pure klunk! Pure-"

"GALLY! Which part of 'wait for your turn' did you not undestand? EVERY Council member gives his opinion first, and only after that we'll discuss them and vote. Until then, if I hear one word from you, I will have to ask you to leave this Gathering. Understood?" Alby snarled, a clear threat creeping up to his voice. Gally looked utterly pissed but lowered his furious gaze to the ground.

"So, Newt, will you tell us your thoughts on the matter?"

Newt bit his upper lip, drawing his mouth to a straight line as he pondered how to put into words the mess that his thoughts were. Soon, however, the answer came to him, and he talked with a strong sincerity in his voice, "I think Tommy could manage brilliantly wherever we decided to put him. And like Minho, I can also see that he clearly has great potential to become a Runner. He's clever and highly motivated, a bit impulsive, too, but that's not always a bad thing.." the last few words were a hasty stutter from Newt's lips as the boy flushed lightly. In a second, however, he gathered himself and continued, "I agree with Minho. Let's make him a Trainee."

As Newt glanced at Alby beside him, he was taken aback by the sadness he witnessed there. Soon, their leader turned his gaze away, though, and opened his mouth to speak.

"I can tell by your words and from what I've witnessed that our newest Greenie isn't quite the kind we get here every month. A few of you have agreed to take Thomas under your guidance with a good reasoning. I think.. We are quite soon ready to vote."

*.*.*

The discussion turned out to be short-lived, and the voting was over within the next thirty minutes, as well. After the decision had been made Thomas was invited to join them. As soon as the dark-haired boy stepped to the room, Newt's heart started to pound harder for the mere sight of him. Their eyes locked almost immediately, and Newt couldn't help smiling at him. Alby beckoned Thomas to step forward and asked him to sit down on the chair before the Council.

Thomas sat, eyed the boys before him and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Thomas, the Council has just come to an agreement of your future Keeper here. If you find yourself strongly disagreeing with the decision, we might reconsider it but I can tell you that never once has the Council's first decision been changed before."

Thomas nodded slowly, and Newt could see the boy was starting to get amused by all the formal words Alby offered. Thomas's eyes twinkled a bit as he asked with eagerness clear on his voice, "Well, what _is_ your decision, then?"

"Greenie, you've just been elected as Runner Trainee. Congratulations."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** I was planning to update at least once a week but my weekend was so full I simply didn't have the time.. My apologies! It's Monday and a brand new week ahead and I really should be sleeping but I decided to give you chapter 16 now, anyway. Enjoy! x

* * *

__All we're chasing is the sunset  
Got my mind on you  
__

Newt wouldn't easily forget the look on Thomas's face when Alby told him that he was to become a Trainee and, most likely, a Runner. He knew Thomas well enough already that he could see the boy was deeply touched and honoured by the idea of becoming a Runner just from the look in his eyes. He could tell the boy went through a variety of emotions inside him, and the dark-haired Greenie couldn't quite help the exclamation of wonder that escaped his lips.

"Wow, guys, for real?" Thomas uttered, his eyes huge and staring at the boys before him as one of his widest smiles started to spread on his lips. However, the boy suppressed it a bit, lowering his gaze momentarily as he cleared his throat and raised his eyes to meet he Keepers', a look so sincere on his face it hurt Newt's heart. "I.. I really appreciate this, I really do. Wow. Just.. Thank you. You won't regret this, I promise."

Alby narrowed his eyes at this a bit, but eventually their leader rose up, his deep voice echoing in the room, "Good that. I think we're quite finished here and that the Gathering is now officially closed." The boy nodded to the other Keepers around him until locking his eyes with Minho's. "Minho, from now on, Thomas and his training is your responsibility," he reminded, and the black-haired Keeper only grinned and nodded in response. Alby turned to face the others again. "Alright, let's go back to our duties now. After dinner, we'll begin the preparations."

With that, Alby walked out of the room. The other Keepers rose up as well, most of them approaching Thomas and congratulating him. Newt stood a bit afar and watched as Minho rushed to pull Thomas into a brotherly bear hug, cheering and clapping his fist to the boy's back. Thomas laughed with him and his face was the reflection of pure joy.

When the Keepers finally cleared out of the room, Newt stepped closer to Thomas.

"C'mere, my soon-to-be Runner," Newt murmured while beckoning the boy closer with his index finger. A slow smile tugged at Thomas's lips as he closed the distance between them, placing his other hand to the small of Newt's back and the other around his shoulders, pulling the fair-haired boy close. Newt slipped his hands to Thomas's back and met his eyes.

"Congratulations, Tommy," he breathed, smiling.

Thomas looked Newt in the eyes, happy. "Thanks, Newt. Listen.." The boy's gaze seemed to intensify, a strong emotion flickering behind his hazel-brown eyes as he looked deep in Newt's dark-brown ones. "I'm sure you had a significant say in this matter, and I bet without your support this wouldn't have been possible. So really, thank you. This means a lot to me," Thomas said, brushing the nape of Newt's neck with his fingers.

Newt nearly closed his eyes and purred at the small gesture. "In fact, quite a many people supported the idea from the start. There wasn't much persuasion needed.. You're welcome, however," Newt smiled and pulled the boy into a soft, lingering kiss.

After a while they parted and Newt gestured to the door, indicating they ought to go out. Thomas nodded in response and took hold of Newt's hand, intertwining their fingers.

"Hey, Newt.." Thomas said before they had reached the door.

"Yeah?"

"Alby was saying something about starting some preparations after dinner.. I wonder what he meant by that," the dark-haired boy muttered, a troubled wrinkle between his eyebrows.

Newt turned his head to look at the boy, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"I guess you just gotta wait and see, Tommy."

*.*.*

The agenda of the night became clear for Thomas soon enough. After dinner Frypan shooed everyone out of the kitchen, demanding to be left alone to work on something with his cooks. Then most of the boys headed off for the forest, bringing piles of branches and wood and piling them up on the dry patch of ground where there was no grass, only sand and grovel.

Newt could see these little pieces of information clicking into place in Thomas's head. They were standing outside the kitchen when Thomas suddenly asked, "Are you throwing a party here or something?"

Newt chuckled and nudged the boy to his side. "Indeed we are, Tommy. And it's all for you." Thomas looked at him with raised eyebrows and so Newt continued, "We do this once or twice a month, but especially on the day we have a Gathering and the Greenie gets his own Keeper, to celebrate that he starts to find his own place here."

Thomas looked at him, smiling, his eyes warm. "I think that makes sense," Thomas murmured, squeezing Newt's hand.

Newt's face flushed and he cleared his throat, nudging Thomas again and starting to tug him towards the forest. "Come on, Tommy, it won't do to just stand here. There's work to do."

However, he couldn't quite suppress the smile playing on his lips.

*.*.*

While the sky was losing its light, the Gladers built a massive bonfire. Everyone was eagerly awaiting for the celebration to finally start. Some boys had brought some pots and kettles from the kitchen and created other handmade instruments their hands were longing to play. The atmosphere was excited and it was hard not to join it, Newt realised. And it wasn't as if he had any reasons to pout, anyway. Not right now. Even if the worry for Thomas was there nagging at the back of his mind, tonight he would let it go and just enjoy seeing Thomas so happy and gleeful.

Newt and Thomas were carrying a long log between them. Other boys had already carried a few other logs and placed them around the bonfire so they could have something to sit on. Suddenly there was a shout from a small distance away. "Oi! Help me carry the food there! I've only got two hands, after all!" Frypan was carrying a huge tray full of sandwiches and grilled meat, gesturing back to the kitchen with his head. A few boys ran to meet him and deliver the food to the table which they had carried there earlier.

"Excited, Tommy?" Newt inquired, smirking at Thomas.

The dark-haired boy turned to him, grinning. "You guys truly seem to invest in this stuff."

Newt chuckled, amused. "Oh Tommy, you know nothing yet."

They placed the log to an empty spot a bit further away from the fire. Newt brushed his hands against each other and glanced around.

"I guess we're soon ready to start," Newt noted, looking at the chattering and restlessly moving crowd of boys around them.

"Thomas, over here! Come!" Chuck called out from a group of boys who were each holding small torches, most of them lit.

Thomas glanced quickly at Newt who pushed him gently with his hand. "Go," he urged, smiling.

Thomas smiled back before making his way to Chuck. Newt watched as Chuck explained Thomas how they were going to lit the bonfire with the torches, all together.

"Seems like some shanks have grown pretty close today," someone murmured in Newt's ear.

Newt startled and jumped slightly, turning around in a flash. "Shuck, Minho, don't do that!"

Minho grinned at him, his eyes crinkling and forming two little half moons. "Easy there, little lion," Minho said, crossing his arms lightly over his chest. "I didn't mean to scare you so much."

Newt scowled at him lightly but shrugged soon. "Don't worry about it," he muttered, turning back to face the crowd, standing beside Minho now.

"So.. From what I can gather, my little aid was most profitable," Minho said, nonchalant. Newt glanced at him quickly but the boy wouldn't meet his eyes, a knowing smile playing on his lips, instead.

Newt had to bit his lip to prevent himself from grinning like an idiot. "Well, I guess you could say that," he answered, nudging his friend with his shoulder a bit. "Seriously, Minho, thanks. I owe you one."

Minho turned his head to look at Newt who was watching him with serious, grateful eyes. The Asian boy quirked the corners of his lips up, nudging Newt's shoulder back. "Anything for my two clueless buddies," Minho quipped, amused.

"Oh stop it, we're not clueless!"

"Take that again, please?"

"Oh, for the love of-" Newt groaned, shaking his head. "Alright, just shut up now."

"Told ya," Minho smirked, turning to face the bonfire again.

They were silent for a while and looked as Chuck helped Thomas to lit his own torch. Newt watched the boy with affection that didn't go unnoticed by Minho.

After a while, the Keeper of the Runners uttered out words that made Newt draw in a surprised breath. "You do good to each other, I can see that. I'm happy for you guys."

Newt felt so touched by Minho's words, he couldn't make a word out for a few seconds. Then he grimaced, shoving the boy with his hand again.

"Oh, shut up, you bloody sap!" Newt growled, but his eyes betrayed him as he glanced at Minho with wonder.

Then Newt noticed Alby who was making his way out of the Homestead. The Leader of the Glade was usually the one who unwrapped the celebrations with a word or two. The Gladers were clearly waiting for him this time, too.

As Alby looked at Newt's direction, the blond-haired boy nodded to him in acknowledgement. The dark-skinned boy strode over the grass and stopped to stand in the middle of the crowd, other boys forming a circle around him.

"Thomas! Come over!" Alby called out, gesturing with his hand. Thomas turned around and looked confused for a while but soon he made his way to the boy, glancing at Newt quickly. Newt tried to smile at him reassuringly. This was the tradition, after all.

Alby stood beside Thomas before the yet unlit bonfire. Thomas had handed his torch back to Chuck and he was now left with nothing to distract his fingers with so he kept cracking his knuckles lightly, looking a bit unsure of what was to come.

"Gladers!" Alby greeted the crowd. "Today our Greenie, Thomas, got himself a Keeper! From now on, he's truly one of us. Let's have some fun tonight and greet our future Runner, Thomas!" Alby clapped Thomas to his back as the boys around him shouted Thomas's name, cheering and clapping.

Thomas's cheeks were a bit flushed but he looked happy, still.

"Let's light up the bonfire and enjoy the night!" Alby shouted as the voices died out, just to start again right after Alby's words.

Alby shook hands with Thomas and the dark-haired boy returned to Chuck and the group of boys who were now moving closer to the bonfire.

Newt then gestured for Minho and side by side they started to make their way to Thomas.

"Hey, Tommy, you got some fire for us too?" Newt inquired, sweeping his hand lightly over the boy's back. Thomas whirled around, grinning at the sight of him and Minho.

"Hey guys! Sure, here," Thomas said, handing them torches and lighting them with his own.

"Let's light up this glorious night!" Minho exclaimed, cheering with the other boys as they settled on a circle around the huge pile of sticks and branches and hay.

"I count to three," Minho shouted so that everyone heard him. "One. Two. THREE!"

As the last word left his mouth, he, Newt, Thomas and all the other boys threw their blazing torches into the bonfire which flared up in seconds, the fire spreading everywhere and the flames burning hot and reaching high into the star-lit sky like fatal fingers.

"Thirsty, anyone?" Gally shouted a few yards away, holding a huge box full of small bottles that made bright clinging noises as they hit each other gently inside it.

The boys roared in excitement and rushed over, the box draining from drinks at a drastic pace.

"I'll get us drinks, okay? Just wait here," Newt said, winking his eye at the dark-haired boy.

Thomas smiled, nodding and suddenly found himself in the receiving end of enthusiastic congratulations from Minho and other Runners. Newt shook his head in amusement and walked over to Gally.

"I see the Greenie has you wrapped around his finger for good, huh? Making you his slave already?"

Newt raised his head as he heard Ben's sneering voice from a few feet away. The tall, broad-shouldered Builder was leaning to one of the tables a bit further away from the fire. Newt slowed his pace and narrowed his eyes.

"Shut up, Ben," Newt spat, glaring at the boy in disgust as he passed him.

"I'll keep my eye on him, you know. Everything's going way too dandy for him right now and I don't agree with you lot one tiny bit. But you'll see.. That fucking do-gooder won't be able to handle one single day in the Maze. That pathetic pet of yours won't-"

Newt moved faster than Ben had time to register it. He whirled around and pushed the smug, unprepared boy down to the table with such force it knocked the boy out of breath and thrust his forearm against the base of the choking boy's throat, hard.

"Don't you ever, _ever_, dare say something like that when I'm near. One word and I'll make sure the Grievers'll get a little snack sometime soon.. I couldn't be happier if I never had to see your shuck face again in my life," Newt growled, pushing his arm a bit deeper. Ben was gasping for air desperately, his eyes wild.

"Oi! Newt! Get the fuck off that boy! You won't hurt one of my Builders, you bastard!"

With one final growl and a hard scowl, Newt released the boy and straightened up, stepping several feet away.

"If you don't want me to get rid of your bloody rats for good, get them under control, Gally," Newt answered, letting Ben behind him crash down from the table, coughing and gasping for air and instead looked over his shoulder to the place where he had left Thomas.

Luckily there were a lot of people between them and almost no one had seemed to look too hard on to the incident in the shadows of the night. Including Thomas. _Small blessings,_ Newt thought darkly. He certainly didn't want the fight of the other day to be repeated which would've been sure to happen if Thomas had seen Ben and Newt strangling each other's throats.

There was a slight tinkling sound as Gally lowered the box with the remaining drinks to the ground and jogged over to check on Ben.

"Ben, you okay?" Gally asked, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. Ben shoved his hand away, groaning angrily and mumbling something incoherent.

Newt turned his back on them and walked over to the box, snatching two drinks there. As he turned around to leave, Gally was suddenly there, scowling him darkly.

"Seriously, Newt, what's wrong with you? Calm the shuck down, for fuck's sake. Do something like that again and I'll be sure to inform the Council," Gally said with a threatening voice.

Newt looked the other boy straight into the eyes, stepping closer. "And I'm telling ya, if Ben does one simple move towards Tommy again, I'll throw him to the Grievers. So you'd better keep him out of the way," he said coldly, a threat clear on his voice, as well.

With that, Newt pushed his way through, shoving the boy slightly with his shoulder. Gally stayed silent, shaking his head as Newt made his way back to the Runners.

Newt made his best to shake his gloomy appearance, but it wasn't as easy as he thought. However, he had decided earlier that this was Thomas's night and he sure as hell wasn't gonna ruin it by pouting and acting all weird. Taking a deep breath, Newt forced a small smile on his lips as he pushed through the crowd, nudging Thomas lightly with his elbow.

"Hey, you're back! What took you so long?" Thomas asked, smiling broadly at the sight of him but Newt noted the small crease that appeared between the boy's eyebrows as he took in the blond's appearance. "Hey, is everything alright?"

Newt handed him the other drink, trying his best to smile wider. "Yeah, of course. The queue was long, 's all. Here, take it."

Thomas accepted the drink and surprised Newt by taking hold of his waist with his other hand and pulling him closer. Newt blinked in surprise, blushing lightly.

"Seriously, Newt, what's wrong? I can tell you're upset," Thomas urged, brushing Newt's hip with his thumb slowly.

Newt took a shaky breath and shook his head just a bit. "I'm fine, Tommy, just a bit of arguing with Gally. Nothing new there," he said, shrugging.

Thomas looked at him for a long while but in the end the boy sighed. "Alright. If you say so."

"I say so. Now, let's have a drink, Tommy. The night is young," Newt said, whispering the end of his sentence with a low voice.

Thomas raised his eyebrows slightly as a knowing smile worked its way to his lips. He raised his bottle and clicked it against Newt's.

"Cheers!" they exclaimed almost simultaneously, and took a drag of the bottles.

Thomas swallowed, smiling, but pulled quickly away and spluttered the drink out of his mouth. Newt threw his head back, laughing in earnest with the rest of the boys around them.

"What the _hell_ is this!?" Thomas demanded, looking disgusted.

"The first taste is always the worst, but you'll get used to it soon enough. Just give it a go, buddy!" Minho chuckled, clapping Thomas's shoulder happily.

Thomas swore under his breath but did as he was told, and indeed, the boy swallowed a much longer drag already, only slightly grimacing as he lowered the bottle.

"There you go, Greenie!" one of the Runners cheered and the others joined in soon.

Newt felt the alcohol burn in his throat, and he thought maybe it wouldn't be too hard to get his mind off about the bad stuff, after all.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Hello guys! Happy first day of February! Here's a second update in a week, I hope it pleases you!

Now, about this chapter.. It's the most M-rated chapter I've ever written, so you have been warned.

Okay. Enjoy! x

(I am sorry.)

* * *

__If there's a moment when it's perfect  
We'll carve our names__

A few hours later, Newt definitely felt the relaxing and freeing effect of alcohol in his veins. The celebration was still taking place around the slowly diminishing fire, and Thomas had definitely been the star of the night. Almost every boy in the Glade had come to congratulate him or just joke around. Thomas had been quite overwhelmed by all the attention but after a few drinks he visibly relaxed around the others, too.

Newt and Thomas were currently sitting on a log and Minho, a few Runners, Zart and some other boys formed a relaxed circle around them. The others were chatting and laughing loudly, but Newt found himself more or less zoned out as his thoughts were wandering. His hazy mind drifted off to the events of the morning and not for the first time that day.

Newt remembered all too well what it had felt like when Thomas's hands wandered all over his body, tearing his shirt over his head and what it was like to slide their slick, bare skin against each other as the warm water sprayed over them. Newt swallowed hard as he felt his trousers getting a bit too tight for the umpteenth time that day. So far he had been able to distract himself enough to calm down, but now as he had had maybe one or two bottles too many to drink, and Thomas was right next to him, their thighs touching and arms occassionally brushing each other, it was all finally getting too much for him.

It wasn't like they hadn't been touching each other and done plenty of kissing for every peaceful moment that day, it was quite the opposite actually. It was simply all Newt could ever have dreamed of and just not enough. He felt like he just couldn't get enough of Thomas. The dark-haired boy was undoubtedly the most fascinating human being Newt had ever met.

Newt was staring at Thomas's veiny, slightly hairy arms; those beautiful, strong hands and the long fingers that would run over Newt's skin, grabbing, squeezing, sliding, exploring and swiping so gently it would drive Newt mad.. Then he heard Thomas clearing his throat beside him, and the sound drew Newt's eyes to meet the darkened, burning irises of the boy.

Newt's breath hitched in his chest and he suddenly came to a decision. He licked his lips, still keeping their heated eye contact, and brought the bottle to his lips, tilting his head back just a bit and swallowing the last drops of his drink. Thomas watched him, transfixed, and his eyes roamed over Newt's face, his eyes, lips, and the base of his throat as it moved when Newt swallowed the drink. The boy's breathing grew heavy and a low growl escaped his throat.

Newt smirked and lowered the bottle, uttering out loud in a low, slightly raspy tone, "I'm gonna go get another drink."

Thomas's eyes widened a bit as Newt suddenly stood up, stepped over the log and started to make his way out of their circle. He could feel Thomas's eyes burning in his back, and if Newt let his hips sway just a little, he wouldn't mention it.

A few yards away, he could hear Thomas making excuses and soon there was a shuffling of steps behind him. Newt didn't allow himself to look back as he made his way to the box that held the drinks, finding the surroundings mostly empty, to his delight.

Newt stopped in front of the table on top of which the box lay. Few moments later he could feel a body pressing against his back and a hot breath tickling his neck. Newt shivered from pleasure and tilted his head back, unable to stop the soft sigh escaping his throat. Thomas nuzzled his face to the side of Newt's neck, swiping his tongue over the sensitive skin.

"Would it be," Thomas mouthed against Newt's skin, "_acceptable,_" biting his neck, "if we sneaked off?"

Newt moaned lowly at the sensations flowing through his body and brought his hand up to curl in Thomas's hair. He squeezed the dark-brown, soft hair lightly and whispered back, "Just follow me."

Newt pulled away from Thomas's embrace suddenly, taking hold of the boy's wrist and starting to tug him along. He tried striding on a fast pace but had to slow down as his head started to spin and his steps faltered. Thomas went along, not making a sound behind.

The pair of them reached the Homestead in no time. As soon as Newt stepped over the threshold, Thomas suddenly snatched his hand away from Newt's hold and pushed the blond against the nearest wall, claiming Newt's mouth, as hungry as ever. Newt gasped into the kiss and steadied himself by resting his hands against the other boy's chest, curling his hands into the fabric of his shirt, pulling it tight.

Thomas's lips were unyielding. The dark-haired boy dragged his hands through Newt's hair and lowered them down his spine which caused Newt's back to curve and his stomach pressed against Thomas's, bringing their bodies so, _so_ close.

"T-Tommy," Newt moaned as Thomas's hands swiped over his bottom and the boy moved his hips ever so slightly against Newt's.

"I just can't get enough of you," Thomas growled, his tongue pushing its way to Newt's mouth and devouring it. Newt was trembling from all the tension in his body that only seemed to get worse, his body tight like a wire. As Thomas pulled back to latch his mouth over Newt's jaw, biting and nibbing his skin, Newt craned his neck, his head resting against the wall.

The fair-haired boy opened his eyes, ever so slowly, and took in their surroundings. His gaze locked immediately to the figure of a boy standing a few yards away. The boy's mouth was hanging open in shock and his face was red as a tomato in the faint light that shone from the lamp in his hand.

Newt's hazed mind was utterly confused for a while, his brow wrinkling as he wondered why the hell would a Glader be in his room at this time. Then the boy realised they weren't even in his room, yet. They were in the middle of the Homestead, making out as if there was no tomorrow, all out in the open.

A laughter started bubbling in Newt's throat, he couldn't help it. With a grin the boy leaned over Thomas's ear, whispering, "We've got company, Tommy."

It took a while before the words registered on Thomas's mind, but as soon as they did, the boy froze, his hands plastered over Newt's ass.

The boy, Newt now recognized him as one of the Builders (_Rob? Rick? Rowan?_), just stood there, utterly dumbfounded.

"What the bloody hell are you starin' at? Get the bloody fuck out of here, and fast!" Newt growled, mustering as much threat and authority in his rough voice as he could in his drunken state. At Newt's words, the young boy seemed to snap out of his shock and he stumbled out of the building as fast as he could, almost tripping over his own feet.

As soon as the boy disappeared, the laughter finally escaped Newt's throat, and soon the blond was giggling in earnest, pressing his forehead against Thomas's shoulder.

Thomas growled, sliding his hands higher, settling them tightly over Newt's waist. However, the dark-haired boy couldn't quite keep his composure and Newt heard the boy chuckle in amusement as well.

After Newt calmed down a bit, he turned his head just a bit and started mouthing the base of Thomas's neck, placing wet kisses there and biting his teeth down occassionally. Thomas groaned and his hold on Newt's hips tightened.

"Let's move this upstairs, hm?" Newt breathed against Thomas's skin, smiling wickedly.

It didn't take long for Thomas to react to his words. In just a few seconds, the boy slid his hands to the back of Newt's thighs, gripping them tightly and lifting the other boy up as if he weighed nothing. Newt gasped in surprise and his legs curled automatically around Thomas's hips and his hands clasped tightly around the dark-haired boy's neck.

"Shuck, Tommy, what the hell are you doing? There's no way you're carrying me up those steps, you're gonna kill us both!" Newt shrieked as Thomas started to make his way to the staircase.

"Oh come on, Newt, have a little faith! I'm not as drunk as you think I am," Thomas growled just as his step faltered a little, causing them both to sway to the side.

"Yeah, right!" Newt huffed, tightening his hold. His heart was hammering against his ribs and a wave of emotions rushed through him. "If you drop me, I swear to God I'm gonna- aahh!" Newt started, irritated, but was cut off as a sudden pleasure washed over him as Thomas started suckling his neck.

"Oh- God.. Seriously?" Newt opposed weakly, craning his neck under the other boy's touches.

"Mmhhm.. I'm a multitasker, you see?" Thomas chuckled, low in his throat.

Thomas did make it up all the treacherous steps, holding Newt tightly against himself and kissing his neck. The moment they were on the safe ground again, Newt turned his head quickly and brought his hands up to the back Thomas's neck, fisting his hair and bringing their mouths together. The blond-haired boy bit Thomas's lower lip with his teeth, and earned an appreciative moan in response.

Suddenly Newt's back hit the door to his room and a startled gasp escaped his lips as Thomas pushed the door open using the blond as a counterforce. Thomas stepped over the threshold and kicked the offensive piece of wood tightly shut behind them. The next thing Newt's somewhat overheated brain registered was a feeling of momentary vertigo and then a soft mattress was pressing against his back. Thomas crawled to the bed after him, his body hovering over him, their mouths never coming fully apart from each other.

Newt's eager hands started tugging Thomas's shirt upwards, fingers sliding over his soft, hot skin. Thomas broke the kiss for a second to allow Newt to pull the shirt over his head and throw it to the floor. His lips descended on Newt's right after, and his hands slipped under Newt's tank top, pulling it up and bringing goosebumps on Newt's bare skin with his touch. The dark-haired boy helped Newt rise up just enough to strip the boy out of his top as well and his eager fingers returned to their mapping and exploring on the expanse of Newt's naked flesh.

As Thomas's hands started to lower themselves to the waistband of Newt's trousers, a snarl escaped Newt's throat and the fair-haired boy suddenly drew his mouth away, secured his hold on Thomas's shoulders and rolled them both over, switching their positions in a flash. A startled breath escaped Thomas's lungs and the boy stared wide-eyed at the smirking blond, now above him.

Newt leaned in and gave Thomas's lips one more hard kiss before moving to the side, licking his jawline and nipping the skin of his throat with his teeth, eliciting whimpers and moans from the other boy. The voices slipping past the dark-haired boy's mouth washed over Newt and made his blood flow faster, throbbing in his veins.

Newt mouthed his way all over Thomas's neck, his collarbones (biting and licking them until the skin was red), roaming his hands over the boy's sides (occassionally digging his fingernails in Thomas's skin, earning arousing gasps in return), his lips moving lower and lower. His slightly shaking hands made their way to the front of Thomas's pants, cupping the visible bulge and squeezing it, making Thomas's whole body arch as a loudest moan by far escaped his mouth.

Newt's fingers fumbled with the fastenings only for a moment before the boy was tugging the trousers lower, bringing his lips to Thomas's stomach, kissing along the faint line of dark hair under his navel, lingering on the sensitive skin just over the waistband of his boxers.

"Newt, I can't-" Thomas started but suddenly drew in a sharp breath as Newt took the grey, thin fabric of Thomas's boxers between his teeth and started dragging it down Thomas's waist, inch by inch. "H-holy shit!"

Newt pulled the underwear as low on the other boy's legs as his nerves allowed before crawling back up, hovering over Thomas's lower half and eyeing the flushed boy from under his eyelashes, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Thomas panted hard, his pupils dilated, but there were no signs of fear or discomfort that Newt was secretly afraid to find there.

Encouraged by Thomas's state, Newt lowered his head ever so slowly, blowing out a long, hot breath and bringing his hand around Thomas's hardened member. Without a warning, Newt dipped his head lower and took Thomas in his mouth. As his hot lips closed around his shaft, the dark-haired boy threw his head back in utter pleasure, groaning wildly.

"Newt, _yess-_"

Thomas whimpered helplessly, his fists curling around the sheets tightly as Newt worked on him, using his mouth and tongue experimentally.

"Y-you're too fucking much- I can't-"

Newt could feel Thomas moving restlessly under him even though he could tell the boy was holding back. Then the blond changed his pace, slowing down but intensifying his touch, lowering and lowering his head until he could feel Thomas's body suddenly tense and shudder as the boy finally reached his climax and Newt's name echoed in the room.

Newt swallowed dutifully, and slowly drew his head back, opening his eyes and meeting the other boy's dazed gaze. For a second they just stared at each other, taking in each other's flushed faces and wild eyes, both breathing irregularly.

Then Thomas's lips curved into a soft smile and he raised his hand to beckon Newt with his fingers.

"Newt, c'mere," Thomas said in a hoarse murmur.

Newt smiled back at him and crawled closer. Thomas was leaning his forearms against the mattress and as Newt was near again, he cupped Newt's cheek with his palm and kissed him. It was a lingering, sweet kiss that made Newt's stomach flutter.

"I can't even begin to describe how that felt," Thomas breathed, still with such a dazed expression on his face it made Newt's chest expand.

"I know right, I'm pretty amazing, huh?" Newt smirked back, turning his head slightly and licking Thomas's palm which had been resting on his cheek. Thomas's breath hitched and his eyes turned dark again.

Thomas lowered his hand from Newt's cheek, sliding it along his neck and chest and swiping the tips of his fingers over his stomach in a featherlight touch that made Newt's muscles tremble and the blond closed his eyes tightly.

"Fancy a hand, Newt?" Thomas inquired, curling his fingers around Newt's trousers's beltloops, tugging the boy closer before letting his knuckles brush over Newt's painful hardness. Newt hissed and the bow of his head seemed to be enough of an answer for Thomas who eagerly rose up, tipping Newt to his back gently and discarded his trousers and boxers before Newt even realised what was happening. Thomas didn't tease him as he clearly saw in which state Newt was. His strokes were firm and efficient as he quickly brought Newt over the edge, swallowing the older boy's frantic moans with his lips.

*.*.*

Few hours later, Newt was tucked safely into Thomas's warm embrace. Thomas was resting on his back and Newt was curled across his chest, Thomas's arms tightly around him. The dark-haired boy had already fallen asleep but something kept Newt awake, still. The blond-haired boy kept drawing small patterns to the smooth skin of Thomas's chest, mesmerised by the warmness and peace he felt inside. It was as if everything he had ever went through had led him to this exact moment, this perfect, beautiful sliver of infinity. Here, in Thomas's arms, he felt like he had finally found his place in this world.

The sleep was slowly but surely starting to reach out its fingers and wrap Newt's exhausted mind inside its gentle grasp. His eyelids were so, so heavy and Thomas's body against him was so, so soft..

Then there was a loud crash outside his door. Newt's eyes snapped open and the boy bolted upright, startling Thomas awake beside him.

"Wha-" Thomas yelped, blinking his eyes open and steading himself by wrapping his arms around Newt, leaning against the boy's back, utterly confused and not really awake yet.

Newt shushed him quiet quickly, feeling how the sleep sneaked away from his reach again in seconds as he strained his hearing to make out any and every possible sound coming outside.

The Homestead wasn't exactly the most peaceful and quiet place in its best days since there were around fifty boys living there, after all. But now there was something ominous flickering in the air, Newt could sense it even though he had absolutely no explanation how he could feel that way. There was just something in the way the hair in the back of his neck stood out and a shiver ran down his spine, and not out of pleasure.

Newt craned his neck to meet Thomas's confused gaze. He smiled tightly and whispered quickly, "Tommy, I heard some weird noises outside.. I'm gonna go check on them, you wait here, ok?" And he leaned in quickly, placing a kiss to the corner of Thomas's mouth before starting to pull away from his embrace.

Suddenly the arms around him tightened. "Wait!"

Newt stopped his movements, frowning and turning back to Thomas. "Let me go, Tommy, I'm gonna be right back!"

"No, I'm coming with you. I'm not letting you leave alone," Thomas opposed, suddenly as awake as ever, eyeing Newt firmly.

Newt swallowed but didn't really want to start arguing right now.

"Alright, let's go then, you and your stubborn ass," Newt mumbled under his breath and Thomas chuckled quietly. They slipped out of the bed and pulled their pants and shirts on as quickly as possible. Newt brought a finger to his lips, nodding to Thomas and they padded over the floor to stand before the door. Without stopping to think about it for too long, Newt swung the door open.

There was nothing or no one there. Newt sighed softly and was about to step ahead to check around the corner, but Thomas was faster than him. The dark-haired boy stepped past him and over the threshold, and then many things happened at the same time.

There was a strong hand that grasped hold of Thomas's shoulder and swung him to the side, striking a hard blow to his head. Any yelps and voices slipping past his lips were muffled by another arm placed over his mouth, and a third boy grasped hold of his slumped form.

"TOM-mmffph-" Newt's shout was cut short as someone landed a firm kick to his stomach, knocking all the air out of his lungs and forcing him to bend over and groan in huge pain. In the corner of his eye he could see how two of the boys started to drag motionless Thomas away, and panic swelled in Newt's chest like a fire. He tried to draw some air in again and stumbled weakly forward, his hand shooting up, Thomas's name on his lips, as someone hit the back of his head with something hard, and suddenly everything went black.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** Dearest reader, no words could ever suffice to make up for the awful, unforgivable amount of waiting and uncertainty I've put you through. Still, I want to try, and offer you my sincerest apologies for the hiatus. I could spend way too much time explaining myself, but I'm pretty sure it would be of no interest to you, and I don't wish to take up too much of your time with my ramblings, anyway. All I can say is that I'm so, so sorry I left you hanging like that; it was never, ever, my intention.. But I guess that in life, things don't always go according to plan. Now, however, I'm back and full of motivation to finish my story. I've probably managed to shoo all my readers away, but just in case you'll be so kind as to return to me, I'm humbly asking for you to give me another chance. I won't let you down, not this time.

Now, let's finally carry on with the story! Here comes chapter 18, I hope you'll enjoy!

* * *

__I come to you in pieces  
So you could make me whole__

Silence. That was the first thing Newt's foggy mind registered. He frowned at the dull ache throbbing in the back of his head, and he shifted just a little, groaning.

_How bloody much did I drink last night?_

Newt was about to chuckle when the realisation suddenly hit him. In the span of a few seconds, all the memories, some of them hazy and others crystal clear, crashed into his consciousness and his eyes flew open, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"Tommy!"

Newt bolted upright in a flash and winced at the pain as his body resisted the sudden movement. His limbs got tangled into bed sheets, and only then did he realise he was actually in his own bed.

"What the hell-?" Newt croaked, battling with the sheets for a good long minute, his hands shaking and panic washing over him in waves, making it hard to concentrate on anything. A quick overall glance had made it clear he was alone in his room, but it didn't stop Newt from checking everywhere and calling out for Thomas with his heart in his throat once he was freed from the suffocating sheets.

His body was stiff and his head felt heavier in a way Newt hadn't felt in months, which made him wonder if he had been drugged. The last time Newt had been under the influence of strong medicine was months back, and a sudden stinge in his ankle made him hastily push away all thoughts trying to creep up on him. He needed to concentrate, not to fall apart, especially not now.

The second he was convinced that Thomas wasn't anywhere in his room, he made his way to the door and stormed out, shouting the dark-haired boy's name and crashing into every room along the corridor. Every single one of them turned out to be empty, and as Newt stumbled down the stairs, he couldn't help but be reminded of his dream in which Thomas had been missing, too.

_What the hell have they done to him? And where in bloody hell__ is everybody?_

"Tommy! Tommy-"

"Newt?"

Newt was currently going through the – empty – bunks in the lower floor of the Homestead until he heard a voice calling out his name. The voice, however, was wrong and certainly not the one he was looking for. Still, the boy whirled around in a second, his eyes wild.

"What are you-"

"Where is Tommy!?"

Both boys talked at the same time, but Newt's desperate shout drowned out Jeff's confused voice.

As the Med-jack registered Newt's question, the boy visibly flinched and avoided his gaze for a second, and none of it went unnoticed by Newt. In a few strides, the blond-haired boy had crossed the room and pushed the other boy against the wall, holding the collar of Jeff's shirt tightly in his fists, breathing raggedly.

"I asked you a question, and you're bloody well gonna answer me! Where. Is. Tommy?!" Newt shouted, staring at the wide-eyed, startled boy sternly.

Jeff's mouth trembled as he tried to get the words out, but suddenly another voice interrupted them.

"Jeff? What- Newt?" Alby stepped through the open doorway but stilled quickly as he took the scene in, seemingly taken aback.

The second Newt noticed Alby, he let go off Jeff and took a stumbling step back, focusing his gaze on the dark-skinned boy.

"Alby, what the _hell_ is going on?" Newt demanded, shaking visibly now. He felt more than slightly on the edge, and if someone didn't soon tell him where Thomas was and what had happened to him, he was sure he was going to lose it for good.

Alby raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut and sighing heavily. Newt stared at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his nails digging into the skin of his palms as he balled his hands into tight fists. After a while, Alby raised his gaze to meet Newt's again, and held out his hand in a calming gesture.

"Newt, please, just calm down. You look awfully pale, I think you should-"

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" Newt spat, taking a trembling step forward.

Alby visibly twitched at Newt's sudden outburst and lowered his hand slowly, begging the blond to calm down with his eyes. "Alright, alright. Just.. listen. It's been a living hell here since the moment we woke up." Alby took a little break, as if to sort out his thoughts, and Newt stood still, all alert.

"It all started when I was on my way to breakfast, a little later than usual. Suddenly one kid stormed out of the forest, screaming for help. Me and a couple of boys ran over and the freaked-out boy took us into the woods. There, in the middle of it, we found Minho, unconscious, beaten up to a pulp."

"Oh my God," Newt exclaimed, bringing his hand to his mouth, shock hitting him like a bolt. "Is he alright? Was Thomas there too? What-"

"Just listen, okay? Minho's alive, but he's not doing particularly well. It might take a couple of weeks for him to recover properly from all his injuries.. But he'll make it," Alby stated, and Newt let out a relieved breath. The knowledge that Minho was going to be alright reassured him only momentarily, though, and soon the panic and worry for Thomas rose back up to the surface, making him tremble.

"We carried him to the Med-jack's room over there," Alby nodded towards one of the doors on the wall which Newt hadn't yet had time to check. "And when he woke up, he was talking all gibberish about Ben and a couple of Builders and Thomas-"

"What did they do to him? Where is Tommy?" Newt cut Alby off, his heart trying to break through his ribs.

Alby looked Newt steadily into his eyes. His voice as calm and collected as he could manage, he uttered out the words, "They took him.. They took Thomas into the Maze."

"W-what?"

The word was a broken, disbelieving whisper slipping past Newt's numb lips. He only registered he was falling as his knees hit the floor and his arms extended before him to keep himself from crashing to the ground altogether. Alby and Jeff were by his side in a second, holding him by the shoulders and calling out his name, asking if he was alright with words that got mingled together in Newt's ears as his world was crashing down around him. His chest felt so tight he thought he couldn't breath for a while, and suddenly everything inside him ached.

After a moment Newt raised his head, looking at Alby with a flash of vulnerability in his eyes that was quickly replaced by his usual defence, irritation and anger. "How could something like this happen? How did some bloody Builders just slip past the Doors without anyone noticing? Without the _Runners_ noticing?"

Alby sighed, lowering his head. "There wasn't much we could make out of Minho's groggy words, but then one of the boys said he had seen the Runners leaving early in the morning. As you probably know, Minho was supposed to spend the day teaching Thomas here in the Glade, and that's why he had instructed the boys to leave without him. We figured out that one of the Runners must've teamed up with Ben and the others and help them to get Thomas out of the Glade unnoticed by others. Then we found you, lying crumpled on the floor of your room and-"

"Did you send someone after them? Alby, tell me you sent someone after them," Newt said, urgency lacing his tone, his eyes big and appealing.

Alby averted his gaze, his eyebrows drawing together as he whispered, "Newt, there was no one to send. I asked people to look for Ben and Thomas and the others all around the Glade, just in case, but no one could find them anywhere. That's all I could do. All the Runners are still in the Maze, and there's no way Minho could take even one step forward right now. And even if we did have someone, we would have no clue as to where Ben and the others went and left Thomas. You know our rules, Newt. No one goes beyond the Walls-"

"SHUCK YOUR BLOODY RULES!" Newt screamed, suddenly stumbling back up to his feet. "How could you just leave him there? How _could_ you just sit here and do _nothing_, while Tommy is in there! He's gonna _die_ there-" Newt's voice broke at the last word and he squeezed his arms around his stomach, slightly bending over as a pain so immense hit all his insides that he wondered if something was truly broken there.

"Newt, you have to understand. There's nothing we can do. No one, _no one_ could have predicted something like this would ever happen-"

"No- I- I just can't understand. I _don't want to_ understand. Why in bloody hell didn't you wake me up? I-I-"

"What would you have done, Newt? When we found you, you were deeply unconscious and badly injured. You probably have a concussion and you actually should be resting right now-"

"I WOULD'VE BLOODY GONE AFTER HIM!" Newt shouted, trembling all over again. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of a sharp knife and no matter where he would step next, he would be hurt. "I'm not a bloody coward like you shuckheads!"

"Newt, please, just calm down," Alby started to close the distance between them, resting his hands firmly on Newt's shoulders. "I promise you we're going to punish Ben and the others the way they deserve. They won't just go on with their lives as if nothing happened. Something like this can't happen ever again. We can't afford people turning against each other here," Alby explained, speaking as reassuringly as he could.

Something in Alby's words nagged at the back of Newt's mind. "Wait.. Are you saying..?"

"Ben and the others arrived some time after lunch. Ben confessed it all and we locked- Newt?"

Newt shook himself out of Alby's grasp and was out of the room before he even realised what he was doing. A white rage had sliced its way through Newt's thoughts, burning everything in its wake and urging his legs to stride outside, heading for one certain destination.

The familiar cube-shaped building made of concrete stood before Newt as his shaking fingers dig his keys from his pocket, trying to find the right one. Soon he slammed one of the keys into the lock, twisted it, and after a satisfying click, he threw the door open and stepped inside, trapping the door locked so that it was hard to open from the outside.

Behind Newt, an amused chuckle pierced the silence of the Slammer.

"Well well well, look who decided to pay me a visit! How's-"

Ben's words were cut off abruptly as Newt launched himself at the handcuffed boy, tackling him to the ground and digging his knee to the boy's stomach as he squeezed his arm against his victim's throat in a choking manner.

The Builder's head hit the ground hard and his arms were crushed under his own back as Newt straddled his waist. The boy would've groaned in pain had there been any air left in his lungs. His slightly injured face turned red and his eyes bulged as he was gasping for breath, trying to struggle against Newt's unyielding hold.

Newt leaned closer, his eyes almost black as he stared at the boy under him, anger roaring inside him like a fire.

"Where is Tommy?" Newt growled the words to Ben's face, emphasizing every single word.

Ben tried to say something, but only a gurgling sound escaped his throat since Newt's hold of him wouldn't allow enough air in his lungs.

Newt narrowed his eyes and eased his hold of Ben a little, drawing his hand and knee back but still holding the boy captive against the ground.

Ben started coughing and tears streamed down his face as he tried to get his lungs working again.

"Speak already, you bloody shuckface," Newt spat, his patience wearing thin by the minute.

Ben focused his eyes on Newt and after a second his mouth curled into a bloody, devilish smirk full of arrogance. His smile kept spreading until tortured chuckles started rising up his throat, a cackling laughter slipping past his lips. Newt flinched at the voice, staring at the boy, utterly dumbfounded.

_He's lost it for good, the bloody moron._

"STOP LAUGHING AND BLOODY _ANSWER ME_!" Newt shouted, thrusting his arm back into Ben's throat, even tighter than last time, making the boy almost choke in his own laughter.

The Builder started to move restlessly under him again, his hands trying to break free and his neck arching, trying to draw in some air, but Newt's hold wouldn't budge.

After a while, Newt took his arm back again, curling his fist against the collar of Ben's shirt and drawing it taught against his neck.

"Spit. It. Out. I won't ask you a third time. I'll bloody kill you, I swear I will," Newt uttered, every word dripping with threat and malice.

Ben was coughing again, but clearly tried to suppress the coughs, drawing in sharp breaths one after another, staring at Newt, wide-eyed. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, his voice was as hoarse and dry as a sandpaper and Newt could only barely make out his words.

"You can't save him. There's nothing you can do. You're not allowed to leave the Glade.. and we made sure Minho would be out of the order as well," Ben's mouth started to curl into a cruel smile and Newt's gaze turned back to a murderous one. He urged his arm closer to Ben's throat again which caused the boy to cough several times and continue speaking. "Even if you did break your holy rules.. There's no way a limping idiot like you would make it there and back in time, carrying your precious Tommy with you. I'm afraid he might be quite unable to move on his own," Ben croaked, starting to cackle again and then it was finally too much for Newt.

There was an audible smack as Newt struck his fist straight to Ben's face and his nose cracked nastily, splaying blood immediately. Ben howled in pain, his voice almost inhuman. Newt's knuckles burned but he couldn't feel an ounce of regret at seeing the other boy in visible agony.

"Tell me where he is, right now," Newt whispered, his voice as dangerous as ever. He brought his hand under Ben's chin, digging his blunt nails in his skin.

Ben was whimpering now, but his words were laced with hatred, as he uttered, "He deserves everything we did to him. You have no idea, no idea at all, what he has done, Newt. I _saw_ it, in my mind, in my memories.. The Changing is a gift, Newt. After it I saw everything much.. clearer. Thomas is evil, Newt. He doesn't belong here. He deserves to-"

Newt's fist connected with Ben's face again almost without a conscious thought. He struck a blow after another, quickly losing count how many times he actually hit the boy.

After some time, Ben's face was almost unrecognisable under all the blood. Then, suddenly, something broke inside of Newt, and a quiet sob escaped his throat as he sat back, shaking, before he jumped off of the boy completely, stumbling a few steps back.

_What am I doing? This doesn't help Tommy one bit. The bastard is never going to tell me where he is, anyway.._

Once freed, Ben curled up into a pathetic ball in the ground, his breath wheezing loudly in the silence of the room.

Newt stared at the beaten boy in the ground, panting hard. He shook his head and started to retreat back towards the door.

Suddenly Ben spoke up again, and Newt stilled.

"Go ahead, run into the Maze after your precious Greenie. Go ahead, and kill yourself in the process, too. He might be dead already, anyway.. Maybe he rolled off over the Cliff himself. We might've left him quite on the edge, who knows.."

Newt strode over the room again and kicked Ben hard into the stomach, making the Builder howl in pain and curl up on the ground even tighter. Newt crouched down next to the boy, looking at him with loathing radiating off of him in waves.

Newt leaned over, bringing his face close to Ben's. "Ya know, I'm pretty tempted to strangle you for good, but I won't make it so easy for you. I'd rather let the Grievers do the dirty work.. I doubt they will stop at one little sting this time."

With that, Newt rose and made his way out of the Slammer. As he stepped over the threshold, however, Alby cornered him immediately.

"Newt, what the hell are you doing?" Alby demanded. Newt recoiled slightly at Alby's sudden appearance, but soon an unreadable expression settled over his face and he ignored the older boy, locking the door tightly behind him. He was about to step past Alby, but he was stopped in his tracks as a strong hand seized his shoulder.

"Newt, answer me! I'm worried about you, alright? Why are you acting like this?" Alby asked, worry and helplessness mixing in his eyes.

Newt cringed and tore himself free of Alby's hold, his eyes turning cold again, his face an angry grimace.

"What do you think, Alby? Why do you bloody _think_ I'm like this?" Newt snarled and stormed off.

Alby didn't let him go so easily, though. The boy ran after Newt, calling out to him.

"Newt! Newt, wait! I'm sorry, I know this is hard for you.. But do you really think beating people up will help?"

Newt growled and turned around, throwing his arms up in the air. "It bloody sure made me feel better! Without that bloody lunatic, Tommy would still be here and none of this klunk would've happened! We should've banished him the moment he came back from the Maze weeks ago, stung!" Tears glistened in Newt's eyes and he took in a shuddering breath, turning away slightly. He couldn't let his feelings get the better of him, not now. He had job to do and he didn't have any time to lose.

"Newt.. I told you earlier, no one could ever have imagined he would do something like this! It seemed Ben was like Gally, and that he was recovering okay- Oh, great," Alby growled as Newt rushed away from him again. "Where the hell are you even going?"

"I'm going after him."

That made Alby stop in his tracks as if he'd walked straight into a wall. He gaped after the blond, utterly taken aback.

"You can't be serious, Newt," Alby shouted.

Newt stopped at the front of the small warehouse that held all kinds of Runners' equipment. He started fiddling with the lock, paying no attention to Alby as the boy approached him. Just as he unlocked the door, Alby's large hand appeared on its wooden surface, pushing it back shut. Newt whirled around, glaring at Alby.

"I won't let you leave, Newt," Alby stated gravely, looking his friend straight in the eyes.

Newt raised his chin, meeting his gaze. "You can't stop me," he scowled.

"Sure I can. You're only second-in-command, you must-"

"Don't you dare playing superior against me right now! There's no way in hell I'm just gonna swallow this klunk and leave Tommy there! He won't make it back here by himself! He will _die_, Alby!"

"If you go there, you won't come back, either. You'll both be dead. I won't lose you, not like this," Alby said, his voice trembling just a little.

"And _I'm_ not gonna lose _him_!" Newt shouted, and his voice sounded dangerously close to a breaking point. Alby twitched slightly by his side as Newt shivered and curled his hands into fists, avoiding the other boy's eyes.

Newt cleared his throat. "I know where Tommy is. Ben told me. It's still early afternoon, and I'll have plenty of time to run to the Cliff and get Tommy out of there. We'll make it back, I'll make sure of it. I can save him." Newt's voice grew more certain and as he raised his head, he wore a determined expression on his face.

Alby shook his head, his brow deeply crinkled. "How can you even trust anything that Ben says? This might all be a trick, and you'd be risking yourself for nothing! Please, Newt, let's think about this before doing anything too hasty." The leader of the Gladers looked at Newt with sad, worried eyes.

"No, Alby, this is no trick and you know it yourself. You're right, I can't trust Ben, but I _know_ Thomas is out there, and I'm not leaving him. Even if I won't make it back.. It's the risk I'm willing to take," Newt said, facing Alby with his chin raised, his eyes full of defiance.

Alby looked at him for a long time, silent.

"Please, Alby. Let me go," Newt pleaded, swallowing hard.

Alby sighed heavily and rubbed his hand over his forehead. He looked pained, and Newt felt sorry for him. It wouldn't be an easy decision for Alby, sending Newt to the Maze after everything that had happened.

After a while, Alby lowered his hand from the door of the warehouse, and Newt sensed his friend had finally given up trying to stop him.

"You shouldn't go alone," Alby said, his eyes filled with pain.

Newt sighed in relief inwardly, and answered quickly, his voice firm. "I won't risk anyone else's life than my own. I was a Runner once, and I still know the way to the Cliff and back like the back of my hand. I can do this."

"I should go with you-"

"No, Alby. We can't leave the Glade without a leader, especially not now. We can't risk anything happening to you," Newt opposed determinedly.

Alby gazed upon him, a grim smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm not irreplaceable, you know," Alby said with a low voice.

"Neither am I, Alby," Newt pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly.

"Newt..." Alby's eyes moistened, and the boy was about to step closer but in the end, he stopped himself and lowered his gaze to the side as his fists balled by his sides. "All I'm saying is..You shouldn't risk your life like this, either. I don't think this is worth-"

Newt was quick to shut Alby up again. "I make my own decisions, Alby. I'm not your responsibility, or no one else's, either."

Alby stared at him for a while, and then his expression settled. The boy surged forward, bringing his arms around Newt, and hugged him tightly.

"I know, Newt, I know," Alby said with a slightly broken voice that hurt Newt's heart. "Just promise me you'll make it back."

Newt drew in a sharp breath, taken by surprise, but in the end he hugged Alby back, burying his face in his friend's shoulder.

"I promise."

*.*.*

Fifteen minutes later, Newt had eaten a quick, light lunch and packed a small backpack with water bottles, granola bars, disinfectants and some other first-aid stuff.

He didn't want to make a big deal about his depart, and so he didn't tell anyone he crossed paths with what he was going to do. Alby had followed him around but while they were in the kitchen, Newt had asked the boy not to follow him to the West Door so he could avoid drawing any extra attention. Alby had grudgingly agreed.

Now, Newt was walking towards the huge Doors, his heart in his throat. The whole situation felt so bizarre. A few months back, Newt had decided he would not take a step past those Doors ever again - not as a Runner, at least. He had never quite lost his hope of them someday finding their way out of the Maze, but month by month it all had started to taste more and more like false hope.

However, Newt was now about to step into the Maze again. He was about to trap himself inside the mess of those narrow, dark corridors, sharp turns, deadlocks, and ivy walls that almost reached the sky above. He was about to run the Maze, for the first time in months, and expose himself to all the dangers the Maze hid inside itself.

Newt stopped right before the Doors, giving one last glance at the Glade. He noticed a few boys had stopped their working and were looking at him. Newt knew Alby wouldn't let anyone follow him, and it wasn't like anyone wanted to follow him, anyway.

As Newt turned back to face the long corridor ahead of him, he couldn't help feeling as if he was looking into the mouth of a treacherous beast.

Newt drew in a deep breath, and then he ran.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Wow, your response to chapter 18 really blew me away! I'm so very grateful for each and every one of you who are still putting up with me, you are the best! Also, I want to give my warmest welcome to all new readers! Enjoy the ride (I guess I should say 'run' in this case, though)! x

* * *

__I'll follow you into the dark  
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white __

The deeper Newt run into the Maze, the narrower the corridors seemed to change, and no matter how much air he drew in his lungs it never seemed to be enough. His breaths were short and ragged, his quick pace making his muscles burn from the effort already. It had been months since the last time he had run, and his stamina had weakened from what it used to be. On top of all that, the sharp pain in his ankle whenever he laid too much weight on it surely didn't help matters at all.

Newt's body wasn't the only one contradicting against his race through the Maze. His mind was strained to its limits, and he would be lying if he didn't admit that a part of him was constantly urging him to turn around, run back to the Glade and hide in the forest, concealing himself from the Gladers' disappointment and the shame he would feel for his own fears and his failure.

But in spite of his inner struggles, whenever the fear and panic of being in the Maze again started to overwhelm him, an image of Thomas flashed through his mind, urging him on; an image of the dark-haired boy beaten up and covered in blood, lying unconscious by the Cliff; so close to the edge that a simple breeze of wind would send him tumbling into the darkness and out of Newt's reach for good. The image was so vivid it twisted Newt's heart in the most painful of ways, making the lump in his throat almost choke him until he slimmed himself, forcing his feet to pick up their pace.

The clock was ticking, and he didn't have a minute to lose.

His ears were tuned in to catch even the slightest out-of-ordinary sounds around him. Besides the steady sound of running steps of his own, the hammering of his heart in his chest, and his sharp, quick intakes of breath, it had been unnervingly quiet.

_The buggin' Grievers had better stay in their bloody rotten holes_, Newt growled to himself inside his mind, but couldn't help clenching and unclenching his fists nervously by his sides as a sliver of a fear licked at his insides.

As Newt was about halfway through the route to the Cliff, he simply couldn't go on anymore without taking a small break. He halted to a stop in the middle of a corridor, bending over and placing his hands on his knees as he panted hard, his shirt sticking to his skin with sweat. He tried to will his heart to slow down its awful pace and shrugged the backpack off his shoulders. He opened the lid with shaking fingers and snatched a water bottle, taking a quick swig of the fresh liquid. Relishing in the instant relief the water gave him, Newt lifted his chin up and took a look at his surroundings.

The corridors throughout the Maze were almost identical. Some walls were covered with lush green vines, occassionnally revealing patches of grey stone underneath, while others were almost bare from flora, consisting only of worn, chapped stone. The air was easy enough to breath even if it smelled surprisingly moist given it never actually rained in the Glade. The smell of rock and ivy filled his nostrils as he slowly tilted his head back, narrowing his eyes at the sky as he noted the slight change in the light there.

Rounding his shoulders determinedly, Newt took a deep breath and threw his backpack back on, his feet picking up their pace again. He had miscalculated his stamina and the speed he was able to keep up, and if he didn't hurry up, both he and Thomas would be doomed.

Newt liked to think he had a good sense of orientation, and back when he'd been a Runner, he'd been one of the sharpest minds amongst the boys and had memorized the different routes almost effortlessly. He still remembered the way to the Cliff like the back of his hand, no maps needed.

Finally Newt reached the familiar pattern of the last few turns that lead to the Cliff. His heart started to pound painfully hard in his chest as a sudden fear and doubt crept back to the surface, questioning everything he had done since waking up that day.

_What if Ben really was lying? What if Thomas isn't here at all? _

_What if it's already too late?_

_What if it was always too late?_

Squeezing his eyes shut, Newt turned to the last long corridor before the final turn to the Cliff. He hated the uncertainty and doubt nagging at the back of his head, but as he drew in a shuddering breath, he realised he would've done nothing differently. In his heart Newt knew that even if there hadn't been any real clue as to where Thomas could be, he would've gone after the boy, nevertheless. Inexplicably, Newt just knew that it wasn't too late. Not just yet.

Newt steeled himself to whatever awaited by the Cliff, and rounded the corner.

The sight that greeted him made his steps falter, and his heart beat one long, painful thump that made him feel like something inside him cracked.

Blood stained the floor of the corridor in several places, and the stark, deep colour of it against the stone horrified Newt to no end. There was a body lying on the ground, a few feet from the Cliff. As his eyes registered the blood-stained clothes and the still form of the dark-haired boy, he couldn't stop himself from fearing the worst as something black and bottomless started to envelope Newt's heart.

"Tommy!" a pained shout escaped his throat, and suddenly Newt came back to his senses, rushing toward the crumpled form in a panicked haste.

He fell to his knees beside the boy, his breath coming out in uneven gasps as he placed his shaking hands over Thomas's chest, taking in the shredded shirt and the bruises and cuts that shone through the slices of it, quickly moving his fingers to the boy's throat, searching the pulse point clumsily.

"Tommy, no, nonono, please don't-" the words slipped past Newt's lips as panicked pleas, and Newt felt like his whole life was tied to this moment _and if he- if Tommy is-_

His mind wouldn't allow him to finish the thought.

His fingers were trembling so badly and his own heart was pounding in his ears so loudly that it took a few moments longer than necessary to feel the weak, slow pulse under his fingers at the side of Thomas's throat. The relief that filled Newt was so overwhelming in its intensity that he couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. The voice escaping his throat was a raspy mix of sadness and happiness.

Leaning closer slowly, Newt slipped his both hands gently around Thomas's face, sweeping his fingers through the boy's hair that was slightly covered in blood in places.

"Tommy, wake up! Tommy, come on," Newt urged, taking hold of Thomas's shoulder and shaking the boy gently. Soon it became clear, however, that Thomas wouldn't wake up with only gentle wishes, and Newt's nerves had been so tight for so long he almost didn't have the patience anymore.

As to agitate himself even further, his mind unhelpfully pointed it out to him that until Thomas actually opened his eyes, there was always the possibility that the boy would never do so again.

"TOMMY!" Newt shouted then, tightening his grip on the boy's shoulder immensely as he shook him in panic.

Suddenly Thomas's eyes flew wide open and he gasped in a huge gulp of air, his body automatically jerking away from Newt and struggling against his hold as a strangled cry escaped his throat, his eyes wild now.

Newt was taken aback by Thomas's sudden fight, but his grip held and he raised his voice quickly, his tone urgent and as calming as possible.

"Tommy, calm the bloody hell down, alright! It's Newt, it's okay, everything's okay now-"

Startled, Thomas stopped trying to break free, seeming to finally see Newt for the first time, and his expression softened immediately, a gasping breath of a different kind escaping his lips as his body relaxed again.

"N-Newt? Is it- Is it really you?" Thomas asked in wonder, raising his trembling hand from his side.

"Yes, Tommy, it's me. You're safe now," Newt answered softly, sighing in pleasure as Thomas's fingers reached his jaw, sweeping over his cheek and sinking into his hair in a tender gesture.

Then Newt could no longer stop himself, and he swiftly closed the distance between them, pressing Thomas down to lie fully against the ground again as he brought his lips on the ones of the injured boy. Thomas sighed in the kiss, as if relieved, answering to it eagerly. The kiss was a little messy, and a little fast-paced, but still worked as a reassuring, calming caress to Newt's jagged nerves.

Newt moved his hand further into Thomas's hair, and his fingers pushed against a rough, slightly wet patch of skin beneath the hair, realising too late what it was. Thomas cried out in pain and drew his mouth away, his face turning into a deep grimace of pain.

Newt startled and pulled back immediately. He felt his face pale as he noticed that his fingers were wet with blood.

"Oh God, Tommy, I'm so sorry- I didn't realise-"

"Newt, calm down, it's okay! It just hurt-" Thomas tried to reassure the panicking boy, resting his hand on Newt's arm, when his eyes suddenly focused on their surroundings, and widened.

"What the-"

Newt swore he could see the pieces of a puzzle clicking into place in Thomas's mind from his eyes as the boy finally realised what was going on.

"Newt, why are we still in the Maze? What the _hell_ do you think you're doing? You shouldn't be here-"

Thomas's eyes started to turn wild from worry and sudden anger, and Newt quickly cut the boy off, knitting his eyebrows together as he scowled at the boy.

"What do you think, Tommy? Did you seriously think I could've just abandoned you here? You would've died here!" Newt growled, his hands curling into fists in his lap.

"I don't want you to risk your life because of me! It's- It's not right! You-"

"You would've done the exact same thing if our places were reversed, wouldn't you? Even if you hadn't taken a single step to this bloody Maze ever before, you would've run after my sorry ass and sacrificed yourself for nothing-" Newt's eyes were getting dangerously wet now and his voice trembled, and he hated it.

Thomas was quick to react with an indignant response. "Of course I would've! But it wasn't you who was taken, it was me, and-"

"ENOUGH, Tommy! I came after you and there's nothing you can do about it, so slim yourself and let me patch you up. There's not a bloody minute to waste if we're going to make it back in time, let me tell ya," Newt growled, agitated and sick from worry.

Thomas's stormy eyes settled, and his mouth hang slightly open for a while before he closed it and lowered his gaze, shame washing over his face.

"I'm sorry, Newt.. I just- I still can't believe you would do something like this. Just.. Why?" Thomas raised his gaze to meet Newt's again, and the blond-haired boy stopped fumbling with the contents of his bag at the vulnerability he found in those hazel-brown eyes. "How can you possibly know if I'm worth saving at all?"

Newt's breath hitched in his chest and he just stared at Thomas for a while, collecting his thoughts. Eventually, he lowered his hand to Thomas's chest, placing it over his pounding heart.

"Because I know you, Tommy. I know with every lovin' piece of my being that you are worth every effort and every risk possible. And I know what I feel, too. There's no way in hell I could ever have left you behind like that," Newt said, staring intensively into Thomas's eyes, witnessing the warmness spreading there at his words.

Thomas's hand found its way to Newt's lap, intertwining his fingers with Newt's and bringing his knuckles to his lips.

Newt smiled warmly at the dark-haired boy's gesture and swept his thumb gently over Thomas's jaw. With his other hand, he dug out a water bottle and a sandwich from the backpack, handing them over to Thomas. Thomas's eyes cleared at the sight of food, and he started to rise up to a sitting position with Newt's help, grunting.

"Eat quickly. We gotta head back real soon now," Newt reminded, shuffling a bit forward to support Thomas so that he could rest his back against the wall of the Maze.

After a while of observing the boy, Newt handed him two pain killers which Thomas accepted gratefully.

"Tommy.. What did they do to you? How badly are you injured? And where's all that blood from?" Newt asked, taking in the dark-haired boy who was breathing in shallow gasps.

Thomas raised his gaze from the sandwich quickly, but then lowered it again, his forehead creasing deeply as he gazed back at the corridor darkly.

"I don't really remember much of it. They struck me so hard in the head back in the Homestead that when I gained consciousness every once in a while, it was only momentary and it was all kind of a blur, really. They wounded me pretty deep in my arm, though, so I guess the blood's from that, mostly," Thomas muttered, shrugging his right arm.

Only then did Newt discover the long, deep slash on Thomas's forearm through the shredded sleeve of his shirt. Newt gasped audibly and seized the boy's wrist, his face turning pale.

"Let it be, Newt, we don't have time for that, and you know it," Thomas argued, making Newt to meet his gaze. Newt's eyes were pained, and his inner struggle could clearly be seen on his face.

"Newt, do you want us to get back to the Glade in time, or feel sorry for my little cuts, trapped in here?" Thomas asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

Newt growled indignantly. "That's not a little cut, and you know it. The wound is so deep you could've bled to death!"

"I think you're overreacting a bit there-"

"I am not! Look at you! You can barely sit straight from all the bruises and cuts covering your whole body, you have serious wounds in the back of your head and on your forearm, God knows how much you've already lost blood, and considering the place we're currently at.. Do I need to go on?" Newt demanded, coldly.

Thomas looked at him, silent, for a long time before averting his eyes. "I get your point. They wanted me dead. Well, at least Ben wanted me dead."

"I can clearly see that," Newt mumbled, anger washing over him in waves again at the mere thought of the Builder. "The question is, why in bloody hell would he do something like this? No one has ever done anything even remotely like this before.. The Changing bloody turned him into a full-time psycho."

Thomas gazed at Newt quickly before mumbling quietly, "He's been saying things.."

Newt narrowed his eyes, and something told him there was something significant in what Thomas was about to say.

"What do you mean? What kind of things?"

Thomas avoided his gaze again, tossing the water bottle back and forth in his hands.

"Well, he.. He's been saying he's seen me before. He keeps saying he knows who I am, and what I have done, that this is – all of this – is my fault. He keeps saying he knows what I'm trying to do, and that he won't let me do it," Thomas listed, his gaze devoid of any emotion as he stared into nothing, clearly deep in thought. "The other day, before – before the fight, he claimed that you were using me – that you always did the same with the new Greenies, playing nice with them and getting them around your little finger, keeping them on their toes before tossing them off like trash – and then he said that we actually deserved each other, since I was using you too to fulfill what I was sent here to do and-"

Thomas's voice quieted as Newt suddenly leaned over and pressed his forefinger against Thomas's mouth. Newt gazed at the dark-haired boy with thinly veiled rage towards the Builder burning inside him like a bright fire, but he tried to swallow his bitterness the best he could.

"Stop it, you bloody shank, that's the most ridiculous piece of klunk I've ever heard you say before. I wish you wouldn't have let that shucking lunatic get into your head like that. Ben is wrong, okay? About all of it," Newt assured, swiping his thumb over Thomas's lips. "None of this is your fault. How could it possibly be? And when it comes to those ridiculous claims about me and what I do.. I guess you should already know it by now, but I can assure you that my behaviour towards you is anything but ordinary."

Thomas stared at Newt with such an open and vulnerable expression that Newt couldn't help leaning closer to place a reassuring kiss on the boy's chapped lips. Thomas clung to the kiss, seeking solace and assurance Newt couldn't have been happier to share.

Soon he pulled back, and Thomas sighed, his fists buried in Newt's shirt.

"I can't remember anything, Newt. This new life was given to me, just like for the rest of you. In one thing I agree with Ben, though.. I think we weren't sent here just for kicks. I think there's a reason behind all of this," Thomas uttered, fierceness filling his eyes again that Newt was so familiar with, and looked up to, as well. "And I'm damned if I don't want to find out what it is."

Newt placed his hand on Thomas's cheek, sweeping his thumb over the soft skin. His eyes were warm as he answered, "And we're gonna find it out. I know we will. But first, we gotta get our asses out of here. Come on, the hour's up. We gotta go now."

Thomas frowned, confused. "'Hour's up', huh?"

"Yeah, I made some calculations and estimated the time we could rest here and still have time to go back to the Glade before the Doors close," Newt explained and packed the water bottle back in its place.

"Okay, I'm ready," Thomas said, nodding curtly.

"Good that."

Newt pulled back and swung the backpack over his shoulders again, raising to his feet, and held out his hand for Thomas to take for support.

Thomas took in a deep breath and slowly stretched his feet under him, accepting Newt's hand. With Newt's help, the boy got to his feet with a groan and immediately started swaying. Newt was on him in a second, curling his arm around the boy to support him and keep him standing. He looked over at Thomas in an evident worry.

"Tommy, you okay?" Newt's voice was rushed and anxious.

Thomas's eyes were squeezed shut and a drop of sweat travelled down the side of his face. After a while, the boy blinked his eyes open, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"Yeah, yeah.. Just felt a bit dizzy for a moment there. I guess I've been lying there on the ground for quite a while," Thomas muttered, staring at the spot where Newt had found him, marked by blood. He turned to look at Newt, trying to settle for a reassuring expression. "But I'm all fine now. Let's go."

Newt looked at him for a while, his eyes searching, but in the end he nodded briskly. "Alright. Do you need me to support your steps?"

"No- No no, I can go on by my own just fine! Just - lead the way!" Thomas assured him, but Newt couldn't help but wonder how much of the boy's attitude was there just to reassure him. However, Thomas knew as well as Newt that their time was limited, and whether it hurt or not, they _had to_ make it back.

"Well, if you're sure," Newt said hesitantly, his tone laced with doubt, but in the end he stepped away to give Thomas some room. He didn't wish to cross Thomas right now and waste time on yet another stupid quarrel.

Newt watched as Thomas took a few limping steps forward, his face pale and Newt could tell Thomas was clearly suppressing the grimace that tried to twist his features after every step. Newt's heart lurched as he saw how much the boy was suffering and he felt awful for making him go through this, but they had no other choice than to go on. After a while Thomas's walking got a little better and Newt turned to face the corridor of the Maze ahead, his thoughts heavy.

They didn't talk much as they made their way corridor after another, slowly but surely. It took every bit of Thomas's concentration to just take one step after another, looking for support from the wall with his other hand, and Newt was too out of his mind to talk. He wasn't the wordy type in his best days, and definitely not under a pressure like this.

Still, Newt kept muttering quiet words of encouragement to Thomas every now and then, and the dark-haired boy made his best to try to smile back. Sweat was covering his forehead and his breaths were shallow, and Newt didn't think he had ever been so worried in his life.

By the time they had completed about a third of their journey, they had had to stop for three times already. The fourth time they rose up and continued their way, though, Thomas crashed back down with a loud groan.

Newt's heart jumped to his throat as he immediately crouched next to the boy, placing his hands on Thomas's trembling shoulders.

"Tommy? Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, urgency and worry lacing his tone.

Thomas's breath was ragged and his face was a mask of pain as he slowly raised his blood-shot eyes to meet Newt's.

"I-I just can't go on anymore. Would you – please – help me?" Thomas whispered, and Newt hated to see the shame that took over the boy's features. He knew Thomas hated not to be able to have control over his own body and having to ask for help. Thomas detested being weak and rely on other's help, just like Newt did.

Newt understood him, but he was damned if he didn't want to do everything he possibly could to make this all even remotely easier for Thomas – even if it would make the boy feel bad about himself.

"Of course, Tommy, don't worry about it. We still have time, okay? Just lean onto me," Newt said, slipping his arm behind Thomas's back, and placing Thomas's arm over his own shoulders.

Thomas nodded to Newt with a weak smile on his lips, and he looked so exhausted it hurt Newt's heart. Newt nodded back and together they rose up to their feet, Thomas taking support from Newt.

Thomas was more strongly built than Newt, and his broken body felt heavier than usual. Newt grunted under his breath but steeled himself, and slowly they started to make their way forward again.

"Thanks, Newt," Thomas said after a while, his voice warm even though every muscle in his body was tight and shaking from effort.

Newt glanced at the boy quickly, trying to smile as reassuringly as he could. "It's no big deal, Tommy."

The two of them managed to keep up their pace for another set of long corridors and sharp turns, and then another, even if exhaustion and pain from all the physical effort was trying to snap every joint and muscle holding Newt's body together.

"Just- just one more break, okay?" Thomas wheezed with a shaky voice just as the straining pain was starting to get too much for Newt. Newt gave in with a grunt, and the two of them slumped to their knees, resting their backs against the cold stone wall.

Newt's eyes drooped closed as he pressed the back of his head against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Thomas beside him wasn't doing any better.

Newt's head felt heavy beyond words, and his thoughts jumbled together into an irrational heap. Eventually, he blinked his eyes open again and took in their surroundings, trying to form the map inside his head back into place and figure out how much they had left to go.

They drank the last drops of their water and as Newt's mind slowly started to clear just a little bit more, his brow creased in confusion. Newt stumbled back to his feet and whirled his head from side to side, his body turning in a circle.

"Newt, what are you doing?" Thomas asked, his voice as weak as ever.

The reality of their situation crashed into Newt's consciousness like a fist to his stomach, draining all breath from his lungs as his eyes widened in shock and his heart skipped a painful beat.

This.. this couldn't be happening.

_How in bloody hell-?_

His voice trembling even worse than his hands, Newt whispered out the words,"Tommy, I-.. I think we're lost."

Thomas's eyebrows drew together and an utterly confused expression formed on his face, and just as the boy was about to utter out a word, a blood-chilling voice pierced the silence of the Maze.

A voice that made Thomas's face drain of color completely.

A voice that turned the blood in Newt's veins into ice.

A voice of a Griever.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** Hello again! I've had a pretty amazing week but I'm glad it's weekend now, nevertheless! About the story; I'm planning on updating once a week till I'm finished with this. Now, enjoy chapter 20 while you still can since things are about to get tough! x

* * *

__When the gusts came around to blow me down  
Held on as tightly as you held onto me__

Shock overtook Newt's body for a few paralyzing moments. His stance was rigid as he stood in the middle of the Maze corridor, his eyes staring into nothingness as the world went completely still for a while. His ears registered a shuddering intake of breath in the sudden silence, and it took a while before Newt realised it was his.

Behind him, Thomas's voice uttered out a few shaky words. "Was- Was that a Griever?"

As if answering to his question, another terrifying, bloodcurdling cry broke out somewhere inside the Maze.

Newt closed his eyes tightly shut, a crushing weight settling into his chest. His hands curled into tight fists by his sides as a poisonous self-hatred seeped into his mind.

"How can I be so _bloody stupid_?" Newt screeched suddenly, the awful reality of their current situation washing over him in suffocating waves. He launched himself towards the nearest wall with a growl and struck his fist against the ivy-covered stone, pain spreading through his knuckles and radiating up his whole arm. Swearing vehemently, he jumped away from the wall and shook his aching, slightly bleeding hand.

"Newt! What the hell are you doing?" Thomas shouted. There was a sound of shuffling and grunting behind Newt, indicating that the dark-haired boy was trying to get up by himself.

Newt turned on his heels and finally faced Thomas, blinded by rage at himself. "Can't you bloody see, Tommy? I've ruined _everything_. We had a chance to get out of this place, and I screwed it, and there's nothing I can do to fix it. We're dead, Tommy. We're dead. Because of me, we're _dead_." By the end of his sentence Newt's voice broke, and he had to swallow hard to get rid of the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

Thomas stared at the fair-haired, shouting boy, completely taken aback. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, leaning into the Maze wall in an unsteady, trembling manner, only barely keeping himself on his feet.

As Thomas tried to adjust himself to stand straighter, he looked Newt steadily into eyes and cleared his throat. Searching for a calming tone despite the fear that was plain on his face, Thomas said, "Newt, look at me. We're not dead, okay? We still have time to make it back, and those voices, they- they were far away. We can still get out of here if we just-"

But Newt wasn't having any of it. He thrashed forward, closer to Thomas, sticking his hands into his own hair and tugging at the blond locks desperately. "No, nonono- Tommy, you don't understand, you couldn't possibly understand! We're _trapped_ here, don't you get it? I screwed, and all this is my bloody fault! Almost three years in the Maze, and it's like I learnt nothing! Almost three years of mapping these bloody corridors, and I still manage to take one bloody wrong turn and get us completely off the path. And the worst part is, I can't even figure out _where_ I got lost, and it could take _hours_ just trying to figure out the right path again. And we don't have that long, now do we?" A hysterical laugh bursted out of Newt's mouth then, and it took a while until he could continue again. "There's no way we can make it out of here alive. Even if we tried, we can't avoid the Grievers all night long. _No one survives a night in the Maze_. Remember when I told you that?"

Suddenly Newt felt as if all the air had been sucked out of him, and his burst of panic and rage seemed to subside. Instead, he was filled with numbness and such overwhelming guilt that he was forced to take a stumbling step back and place his other hand on the wall to support his slumped form, a few yards away from Thomas.

Tears stung his eyes, and he quickly turned his face away, burying his forehead to his forearm leaning against the ivy. Newt's breath came in and out in quick, unsteady bursts, and he could feel desperation tearing his insides apart.

A sound of heavy, dragging steps approached Newt, and suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. Then Thomas's low voice called out his name next to him, "Newt, I do remember. And I remember the look that used to appear in your eyes whenever the Maze was mentioned," Thomas said and Newt visibly twitched at his words. The dark-haired boy slid his hand from Newt's shoulder across his neck and gently rested his palm on his chin, making Newt to turn his head and lock his tear-filled, dark eyes with Thomas's hazel ones. "I don't know what happened to you here that made you stop running, and it's not my place to ask you about it.. But I can tell it's nothing good, and it has left its mark on you. I know you haven't put a foot inside these walls ever since it happened. And yet, here you are, because of _me_. You risked yourself and overcame your fears because of _me_, and I'm not going to take that lightly. We can't give up, not now, not after all that has happened. We _have to_ try, Newt. I won't give up on you," Thomas said, his tone firm yet gentle.

"Tommy.." Newt's voice was a trembling whisper as he took in Thomas's words, his heart heavy with emotions. "I- I'm so s-"

"No, stop it, Newt. This is not your fault. If someone's to blame, it's me. But we-" Thomas's voice faltered as another shriek of a Griever pierced the air, and Newt could have sworn it came much closer this time.

Thomas swallowed, and Newt could see fear flicker in his eyes, but as he spoke again, his voice was filled with strength and determination. "Newt, we gotta get moving. We could – we could track our way back and at least try to find the right route to get back to the Glade."

Newt couldn't understand how calm Thomas could appear to be while he himself was on the edge of falling apart completely. Thomas's words, however, ignited something inside of him and he knew the boy was right – they couldn't give up.

Newt raised his hand and curled his fingers around Thomas's which were still holding up his chin, and squeezed. "You're right, Tommy, you're right," Newt said, nodding, and took a deep breath. "Let's go."

Newt stepped closer to Thomas and wrapped his arm around the other boy to give him support. Thomas leaned heavily on Newt, but adrenaline was now pumping steadily through Newt's veins, and they started making their way back to the direction they had arrived from as brisk a pace as they could manage.

Newt and Thomas traced their way back through several corridors, stopping at every corner to make sure the path ahead was empty. After a fourth turn, Newt stopped and pointed ahead.

"This is _it_, Tommy. Here's where I turned right instead of left – see, we just gotta walk down this corridor and we're back on track," Newt realised, and a small, relieved smile spread on his lips.

"That's – great, N-Newt, I knew you – c-could do it," Thomas uttered out between ragged breaths, his body trembling from exhaustion against Newt's side.

Newt knew they both needed a break, but they didn't have any other choice than to go on. The shadows of the walls were getting longer, and the sun was dipping lower as the moment of the closing of the Doors came closer. The darkness descended inside the Maze earlier, anyway, thanks to the half-a-mile long blocks of stone and concrete around them.

They had just taken a right turn at the end of the corridor, when a weird, rhythmic voice made Newt's steps stumble to a stop, almost sending them both crashing to the hard ground. Thomas yelped at the sudden pause of movement but as his ears registered the same noise as Newt's, the boy's eyes scrunched in confusion.

_Whirr, click-click-click, whirr, click-click-click..._

"What is that-"

"We have to _go_!" Newt yelled, his heart in his throat, securing his hold of the frozen dark-haired boy and dragging him along, the howling and shrieking and clicking of the Griever echoing off the walls around them, suddenly frighteningly close.

Thomas was visibly struggling to keep up with the intense pace they were forced to continue. His weak, beaten-up muscles tried their best to comply, but halfway down the new corridor they had just turned to, his knees gave up and he fell down, gasping for breath desperately.

"Newt – I – we'll never make it to the Glade in time – you have to go on – without me," Thomas panted, raising his eyes to meet Newt's as the blond quickly lowered himself down next to Thomas, ready to help him up again. At Thomas's words, though, Newt growled and stared at the boy in front of him.

"You can't be serious, Tommy, there's no way in hell I'll-"

Newt's voice faltered as his ears registered an all-too-familiar sound, one that froze him to the spot as a painful pang of realization hit his chest; the unmistakable, deep, and fairly distant sound of low rumbling and screeching as the Doors closed shut for the night.

Desperation and guilt hit Newt so deeply that he had to close his eyes as his hands trembled around Thomas's arms.

Their time was up.

They hadn't made it back in time.

They were stuck in the Maze for the night, there was a Griever on their track, and it was all Newt's fault.

"Newt, the Doors-"

Anger and panic blinded Newt once again, and he snapped, "I _know_, Tommy! We're stuck here for good now, you think I didn't realise that?"

The look of hurt that flashed in Thomas's eyes slit Newt's chest, but then the movement behind the dark-haired boy drew his attention quickly, and his face paled at the scene that his eyes witnessed there.

A creature unlike anything Newt had ever seen before emerged from the corridor Newt and Thomas had left mere minutes ago. It was an enormous, misshapen _thing_ with nothing natural or rational about it. All kinds of nasty-looking blades, needles, and other weapons were protruding from its pitch-black-coloured body alongside with several pairs of arms and legs. It moved by pulling itself into an odd-shaped lump, its appendages miraculously withdrawing themselves inside its body, and rolling a few feet forward accompanied by a chorus of mechanical whirrs and clicks.

The Griever stilled at the end of the corridor, right after its grotesque body had rounded the corner, and turned to face the two boys about twenty yards ahead. After a moment of stunned silence, the Griever's limbs once again reappeared from its body, and one of its spider-like arms (or legs?) rose high up in the air, turning from side to side and shaking furiously until suddenly, a bright light appeared at the end of it, blinding Newt's eyes momentarily. The light moved from wall to wall, up and down and finally along the length of the corridor, until it settled on Newt and Thomas.

The dark-haired boy had turned towards the noise coming from behind them, and Newt could tell the boy was paralyzed from shock at the sight his eyes took in. As the light turned to point straight at the two boys, however, they both startled, and right on cue the Griever shrieked venomously, the light swaying as the Griever shuddered and snapped its weapons against each other.

Then Newt shook out his momentary paralysis and screamed, "RUN!" as he scrambled to his feet, tugging Thomas's arms desperately. The injured boy yelped and miraculously got his feet under him in a record-time, and just as the Griever reformed into a ball of squishy flesh, ready to roll ahead, the boys broke out into a limping run, away from the hideous creature.

Deep and all-consuming fear for both their lives rattled Newt's heart as they made their unsteady way forward. He knew they couldn't possibly keep up this mindless pace forever, but what other choice did they have than _run_? They had no weapons; absolutely no way to defend themselves, and soon enough Thomas would be too weak to even stand on his own feet.

The boys finally reached the other end of the corridor but before they took a left turn, Newt dared a glance over his shoulder at their chaser. His heart shuddered as he noticed how quickly the Griever had already closed the distance between them, which was now about a half from what it had been just a minute ago.

It was no surprise that they didn't even reach the middle of the next corridor until the screams and howls and clicks of the Griever intensified again as it rounded the corner after them. Thomas was struggling for breath, and Newt kept his hold firm around the boy who was fighting through his pain against all odds beside him.

The heavy thumps of their feet and the horrible voices of the Griever kept echoing off of the walls around them, almost disappearing under the loud rush of blood in Newt's ears, and thus he barely registered the first signs of the change that took place right ahead of them.

Fifty yards ahead, a piece of wall on their left crackled and inched out of the main wall, starting to move to the right and close the path ahead of them slowly but surely. As the familiar, screeching sound of stone against stone filled Newt's senses, the realization of what was about to happen hit Newt like a lightning bolt, and he barely prevented himself from tripping over his own feet.

"Tommy! Look! The Maze – it's changing! We gotta make it to the other side of that wall before the Griever catches up to us, so it'll get trapped on the other side!" Newt shouted, his voice unsteady from the physical effort.

As soon as Thomas realised their chance, the boy tried to pick up his pace as best he could, tightening his hold of Newt in the process. Newt felt hope crawl into his heart as every step took them closer to safety, away from the monstrous beast on their heels. He could already smell the warm, disgusting stench drifting from the Griever as it chased its prey, getting closer by the minute.

_Thirty yards, twenty yards, ten yards..._

The wall ahead of them was over halfway closed now, and just as Newt thought they would make it, Thomas's legs gave out, and he crashed to the ground, taking Newt down with him. The sudden impact with the cold stone floor sucked all air out of Newt's lungs, and scorching pain radiated through his entire body. Thomas groaned in anguish next to him and rolled on his side, but Newt was already struggling to get up, panic washing over him in waves.

"TOMMY! You have to get up – getupgetupgetup!" Newt shouted desperately, ignoring his pain and dragging Thomas across the ground by his armpits.

Gasping and trembling all over, Thomas tried to get on his feet again, but it was all in vain since he just ended up crashing back down immediately, over and over again.

Thomas raised his pain-filled, tearful eyes to meet Newt's, his body leaning limply against Newt's as the fair-haired boy desperately tried to get him to stand.

"Newt, I'm so s-" Thomas started, but was cut off as suddenly there was a deafening scream right next to them, and a rusty, long blade was struck to the stone floor right where Thomas's leg had trembled just a second earlier before Newt had braced himself and yet again yanked the boy a few inches closer to the ever-closing wall behind them.

Both boys cried out in fright at the sudden strike, but the Griever was nowhere near finished. Before they had time to react, it had pulled its bladed arm out of the stone, leaving a cracked hole behind. The Griever howled in disappointment, and sprung out one of its arms – this one armed with a large mace – swaying it in a sidelong motion towards the two boys, missing Thomas's chest by an inch.

"TOMMY! Get behind me – you have to go through the door-" Newt shouted, gathering his strength as he dragged the boy a few steps backwards before he stepped to the side and stood between Thomas and the Griever.

"No, Newt, goddammit, I'm not- NEWT!" Thomas started with frustrated voice that quickly turned into a panicked exclamation as the Griever made another approach and thrust its squirmy, thick, and spiky arm forward, hitting Newt full-on to his stomach and slamming him to the side. Newt's body hit the Maze wall with a force that cracked something in his shoulder before he slumped to the ground, his vision blurring.

Newt's ringing ears were barely able to make out the desperate calls of his name coming from somewhere behind him. His left shoulder was on fire, and Newt could feel it was dislocated, or something worse. Blood trickled down from his hair line – apparently he had also hit his head against the stone. As his vision started to sharpen again slowly, Newt's mind caught up with the situation at hand, as well.

"TOMMY!" the shout came out of his mouth before he could even turn his head around to see the other boy.

The sight that awaited him made Newt's heart skip a beat. The Griever had outnumbered Thomas probably in seconds, and the dark-haired boy was currently lying on the ground and struggling against the Griever's probing and attacking appendages. Thomas was screaming and fighting back as best he could, but the Griever was just too strong, its whole body was hovering over the boy and crushing him against the ground. The Griever was wheezing and making all kinds of sick, mechanic noices, its lightbulb moving restlessly all around as the creature was constantly on the move.

As Newt gathered his strength and pushed all his pain away to try to get up, only one thought buzzed in his brain: _I have to save him_. His hazy mind barely registered the definite sound of the wall behind them closing shut with a shuddering thump. He didn't care about the stupid wall anymore. His eyes only saw Thomas now as the boy struggled for his life under the unyielding attack of the half-creature-half-machine beast.

With an enraged scream, Newt finally got to his feet and he stumbled forward, throwing his body against the Griever, pounding his fists against its disgusting, stinking and squishy skin. The Griever shrieked, distracted, and seeing his chance Newt leaned in even further and kicked a blade that the creature tried to strike towards Thomas with all his force, sending it off its course and missing the boy on the ground.

"Newt, NO!"

Newt heard Thomas's desperate, pain-filled shout until a cry of his own rose up his throat and drowned Thomas's voice as the Griever pressed one of its clawed arms against Newt's broken shoulder. All its attacks were now concentrated solely on Newt, tearing at his skin and striking blows, one after the other.

Newt tried his best to struggle against the slimy tongs that seized his body and lifted him off the ground, but he was no opponent to the Griever in his weakened state. When a tail like that of a scorpion's rose up behind the Griever, a long thin spike protruding from its end, Newt knew that this was it.

They couldn't possibly live through this. They had missed their chance, and there was nothing they could do to get it back.

Quicker than a thought, the Griever swung its tail, and the spike sank in Newt's stomach, stinging only briefly before it was retracted, and then swung at him again, and again. With each strike, Newt could feel numbing pain spreading from each wound, making his body turn limp against his will, until suddenly, the Griever stopped his assault, screaming louder than ever before, its whole body convulsing. In the chaos that was caused by the wounded Griever, Newt got moved to the side, getting a look of what had happened.

Thomas stood on his knees on the ground, holding a piece of black and oil-dripping metallic arm in his hand. A multi-coloured set of electric wires protruded from one end of the leg, and on the other end of it there was the familiar flashlight that now was flickering unevenly. Newt had no idea how the boy could have done it, but somehow Thomas had managed to get a hold of one of the Griever's arms and pull it off while the creature was focused on Newt.

Newt stared at Thomas in a shocked awe, but the Griever wasn't taken aback for long. With a deafening screech, it swung its mace-arm at Thomas, swiping the boy from the ground and smashing him to the stone wall in no time. Newt's screams tore at his throat, but the creature only tightened its hold on him and rolled closer to Thomas's still body next to the wall. The Griever raised up several of its weapons, ready to thrust them straight through Thomas, but suddenly, inexplicably, it froze, its weapons still pointing straight at the boy.

Newt's yell stifled as suddenly a complete silence settled over the Maze, save for the tortured, loud bursts of breath from the two boys. Newt couldn't take his eyes off of Thomas's unmoving body lying crumpled on the Maze floor, a few yards below himself. Minutes passed, and the Griever stood steadily in place, not even a muscle twitching. Newt was too scared and exhausted andin pain to try to say anything or move in any way at all, and so he lay limply in the Griever's grasp, fearing that even a slightest noise or movement would make the beast give his final, fatal strike.

Nothing could have prepared the fair-haired boy for the ten-feet fall that he suddenly experienced as the Griever loosened its hold of Newt altogether, sending the boy crashing to the ground.

The impact knocked all breath out of Newt's lungs, and he didn't have any strength left to roll on his side and witness what the hell the Griever was up to now. He heard several jagged, uneven clicks and wheezes coming from behind him, but after a while the sound grew steadier, and Newt couldn't quite believe it, but unless his hearing was deceiving him completely, it sounded as if the noises became more and more distant, minute by minute.

_Whirr, click-click-click, whirr, click-click-click..._

The Griever had..given up? It had turned tail and run?

_Why on Earth-?_

_Tommy!_

Newt could feel something foul and poisonous working its way through his system. Cold sweat was rising up to his skin everywhere, and every single muscle in his body hurt. The pain on his shoulder was almost enough to make him faint, but somehow he kept that pain at bay, still holding on to the blurry edges of his conscience.

Excruciatingly slowly, Newt turned his head to the side and his shuddering, weak breath got caught in his throat as his tearful eyes took in the sight of the dark-haired boy, just about a yard away from his grasp.

Thomas was laying on his side in a crumpled fetal position, his eyes closed, blood staining his face and his ripped clothes. One of his arms was stretched across the stone, his fingers twitching.

"Tommy," Newt croaked, his voice weak and raspy from all the screaming. "Tommy!" he tried again after clearing his throat in an attempt to bring more strength to his voice, but all it did was make his mouth taste like blood.

Newt watched as Thomas shuddered a little at the slightly louder call of his name, and his eyes blinked open, ever so slowly. A relief filled Newt's chest despite the despair of their situation.

"Newt.." Thomas whispered, his voice barely reaching Newt's ears.

Even though Newt's vision was blackening already as all the injuries in his body and mind finally started taking their toll, he gathered the last bits of his strength, and outstretched his uninjured arm over the stone floor, pressing his forearm against the ground, and inched his weak body forward, as far as he was able. It was a small movement, but the pain doubled all over him and he couldn't stop the groans of pain from straining his sore throat. World spinning behind his closed eyelids, he gave up and his body slumped to the ground, and Newt didn't think he could ever get up, ever again.

He could feel the last bits of energy leaving his body as a sickening, stark venom spread deeper and deeper through his system.

Newt's head rested against the cold stone, and it took minutes until he gathered enough willpower to open his eyes, one more time.

His tired eyes settled on Thomas and with a painful pang in his chest he realised Thomas's eyes were closed again. Panic fluttering in his chest like a bird in a cage, Newt refused to give into his worst fear, and instead drew in a sharp breath and straightened the fingers of his hand that was still reaching towards Thomas. As if by a miracle, he could feel just the tips of his fingers brushing against the other boy's palm.

"Tommy," Newt whispered. He doubted that Thomas could hear his weakened voice anymore, but the burning in his chest was just too strong; he couldn't tell if it was the poison going through his system that raised all his emotions to the surface or if deep down he knew that this was probably his last chance to open his mouth again, but nevertheless the deep, deep emotion rose up inside him, nearly suffocating him in its intensity; the emotion that had been only growing in strength ever since he had laid his eyes on the dark-haired boy all those weeks ago, and he had to-, he _had to_..

"Tommy, I l-"

But it was too late.

_Maybe it was always too late._

Newt's voice died down as his body had finally had enough. Thomas's face blurred in Newt's eyes, his head span and hurt like never before, and then,

then he could feel nothing,

nothing at all.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** Apparently my chapters are getting longer and longer towards the end of my fic..which I suppose I should tell you is coming in the near future. But I'll definitely state it clearly in the author's notes when it's time for the last chapter, so don't you worry that I would just leave you off without saying goodbye! So, last chapter wasn't the end even though it might've seemed like it. Here's the next chapter; this was actually one of my favourites to write, and I hope you'll enjoy it as well! x

* * *

__Wake up now and start to dream  
I wish you would stay 'cause you are all I need__

Shadows. Shapeless forms. Voiceless whispers.

Those were everything Newt knew.

He wandered amongst them, he stood still trying to make them out better, and then he tried to run away from them.

It was no use, of course. They were everywhere. There was no getting away from them.

It was all too confusing for words.

He had no concept of time whatsoever, so he had no means at all to estimate how much time had passed when it started.

All of a sudden, a beacon of light shot through the darkness, its brightness nearly blinding Newt in its intensity. Slowly, however, his vision adjusted, and as soon as he was able, Newt stepped closer despite himself, lured in by the light like a moth. He reached out towards it, but no matter how far he went, he never seemed to be able to touch it. He narrowed his eyes against the brightness and kept inching forward, his mind on the edge since he knew that any moment now he would inevitably reach the source of the odd phenomenon.

There was nothing but light in his vision anymore, surrounding him everywhere, but still he couldn't feel a thing.

Until suddenly, he did.

There was a sound like thunder, and a strong wind hit Newt out of nowhere, tearing at him from every direction. A sharp, burning pain licked its way through his skin; through his very bones, travelling all over his body in a nano-second, making everything inside him hurt. He would've cried out in agony, except he had no voice; he would've collapsed and fainted at the amount of pain he was in, except he had no control over his own body; the awful wind kept him upright, and it shook him up inside out. He could feel something inside him crack open at the tugging and prodding of the wind, like a key turning in a lock to release it. Then _something_ started to pour out of the crack, filling him up, the flow of it never seeming to come to an end.

It was all too confusing, it was all too much for him to understand. Everything was mingled and layered and blurred; there were faces, voices, names, places, thoughts, and feelings swirling through him, and he simply couldn't get them in order. Whenever he tried to grasp even a sliver of the endless stream of memories flowing through him and concentrate to make sense of it, it shattered into thousands of pieces, each piece containing a lost piece of himself, and they all slipped through him, out of his reach.

Newt was getting desperate beyond words until a deep, pulsing ache cut through his skull, his vision narrowing down until the spin of his mind slowed down enough for him to be able to grasp one swirling thread drifting around, and slowly but surely a whole, solid memory slid into his consciousness, filling all his senses.

Air flowed in and out of his chest in uneven shudders. His eyes were squeezed shut and blood rushed through his veins, his pulse almost deafeningly loud in his ears. He lifted his trembling hands to cover his ears, but he realised that it wasn't just his hands that were hard to control; in fact, he was trembling all over, and he could even feel his teeth clattering together like raindrops rattling against a metal roof. Panic was a living beast inside him, clawing his insides in a haste to get out.

Same restless, painful thoughts circled through his head, leaving room for nothing else.

_I shouldn't be here... I don't belong here, I never could... I belong with my _family_ even if they-... Why did they do this? Was it my fault? Was it-?_

His quiet sob echoed in the small space under the large staircase where he was hiding, away from everyone else. He was afraid and sad and confused, and worst of all, he was completely alone. It had all sunk in a while ago, and he just couldn't bear it. It was all so _wrong_, in every way possible. His shoulders shook at the force of his sobs, and he clutched his arms around his small, bony knees even tighter, making himself even smaller.

Suddenly there was a voice in front of him.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Newt startled a bit at the unfamiliar, high-pitched voice of a small child. Slowly, he raised his head from his knees, and blinked his swollen, tear-filled eyes open.

A young boy, maybe even younger than himself, was crouching a few feet in front of him, his big, hazel-brown eyes looking curiously at him. He had brown, short hair and a friendly-looking, round face. His dark eyebrows knitted together and a puzzled expression took over his face as he took in Newt's tear-stained cheeks which were flushed from crying, and his quivering form.

"Leave me alone," Newt uttered with a shaky voice, leaning his back further against the wall behind him, trying to get away from the boy.

The small wrinkle on the dark-haired boy's brow deepened further as he heard Newt's words, but soon a determined expression settled over his features.

"No, I won't. Why are you crying?" the boy asked, sitting down and mirroring Newt's position.

Newt stared at the boy, confused. Those hazel eyes that looked straight into his own deep-brown ones were filled with sincerity, and somehow, inexplicably, Newt felt his guards dropping just a little.

He relaxed his shoulders as he bit his lip and whispered, "I don't belong here. I – I miss my family. I want to go back but they- these people won't let me. I don't want to be here!" Another sob escaped his throat and Newt quickly pressed his forehead back to his knees. "I don't want to be here alone."

Several moments passed in silence as Newt was trying to get his breathing back under control. He was sure the other boy had already sneaked out to make fun of him with his friends, but Newt faced another surprise as the young boy spoke up again.

"I can be your friend."

Newt's breath caught in his throat, and slowly he faced the other boy again.

"Really?" he whispered, holding his breath.

"Yeah," the dark-haired boy assured, his lips curving into a crooked, happy smile.

The little boy extended his arm to Newt. "My name's Thomas."

Newt blinked once, hesitating for a moment, but then he reached out and took hold of Thomas's hand, shaking it a little.

"I'm Newt."

Suddenly Thomas's smiling face blurred in Newt's eyes and their whole surroundings seemed to fade. The familiar pain stabbed through his head, throwing him out of the vision. He didn't have much time to wonder nor prosess what he had just experienced until another memory pushed its way into his consciousness without his own effort, taking the pain momentarily away again.

He was in a classroom where everything, simply _everything_, was white; from the floor to the ceiling, every surface and piece of furniture was pure, clean white. He was twirling a white pen between his fingers, his elbows leaning into the desk in front of him.

He was older now, his body still small but leaner. He sat in a slightly forward-slumping posture, his legs crossed under the desk. Absentmindedly, Newt started nipping at the end of his pen with his lips, and all the while his eyes were transfixed on the person sitting in front of him, on the next row of desks.

Thomas sat there, in his usual place, his back to Newt and his focus on the front of the class where their professor was teaching them something related to human brain and its complex structure. Every once in a while, the dark-haired boy would scribble something down on his notebook or raise his hand to ask a specifying question.

It was probably clear for the entire class that this subject was Thomas's passion. The boy's curiosity was beyond limits, and he seemed to be able to absorb ridiculous amounts of information and utilize his knowledge in practice, too.

Newt knew he should've been paying attention, since even though he was no thick-headed simpleton, his mind didn't grasp the complexity of the theory they had to deal with daily if he didn't put effort in it.

Somewhere in the distance, Newt's ears could pick up a cool and collected female voice speaking, but his mind shut it away completely as he was once again helplessly distracted.

Sometimes, he just couldn't help himself. Sometimes, it was just impossible.

Hell, who was he kidding? Not thinking about Thomas was absolutely impossible for him _most_ of the time.

At present, Newt's eyes were mapping the expanse of Thomas's shoulders; the way his back muscles and shoulder blades moved under his pale grey shirt whenever the boy adjusted his position or moved his arms when he shuffled with his things on his desk, leafed through his books, or took notes.

Next up, Newt found his eyes glued to the nape of Thomas's neck where his dark-brown hair curled just the slightest bit, and he was wondering what it would feel like to slide his fingers across the sensitive skin there...

"Newton?"

Newt blinked, twice, shaking his head just a little, finally focusing his gaze on the front of the classroom where their professor was staring at Newt intently, her eyes narrowed.

"Yes, professor Paige?" Newt asked, clearing his throat and straightening his spine.

At the edge of his vision, Newt could sense Thomas turning his upper body slightly to glance at Newt, his eyebrows raised. Newt could only barely resist the urge to glance back at Thomas, but he didn't dare let his eyes drift from professor Paige, not right now.

"I asked you to remind the class what are the main parts of the brain connected to memory. Two times, now. Do I have to ask you to leave the class, or can you finally give us the answer?" professor Paige inquired, seemingly irritated. The white-clothed woman crossed her arms over her chest, rising her chin in an expectant manner.

Newt's heart thumped in his chest hollowly as his mind suddenly went completely blank. He swallowed nervously and opened and closed his mouth a few times before he stuttered, "I-I um-"

Suddenly Thomas rose up from his desk, his chair screeching against the floor. The boy folded his arms behind his back and bowed his head down slightly as he said with a clear and apologetic tone, "Excuse me, professor, but may I please use the bathroom?"

Professor Paige turned her attention to Thomas now, and a small, genuine smile spread on her lips. "Of course, Thomas. Please be quick, though," she answered, nodding her head shortly.

Thomas thanked her, smiling, and turned around, glancing down at the panicking blond. Just as the boy stepped past Newt, he winked his eye and stumbled on his own feet, suddenly leaning very close to Newt and taking hold of his shoulder to support himself.

"Woa, clumsy me," Thomas hurried to say, letting out a short, nervous laugh as he quickly straightened up.

The whole incident was over in three seconds, and Newt was still recovering from the sudden closeness of the boy as he swept his sweaty palms against his trousers, trying to will his flushed face to cool down. Then his hand touched something smooth on top of his thigh, almost dropping it to the floor.

Closing his fist tightly around the small piece of paper, Newt glanced behind him just as Thomas disappeared through the door. As it clicked shut, he turned his attention back to his lap and unfolded the paper, revealing a few lines of Thomas's scribbling, a smile tugging at his lips as he read the words quickly.

Now that Thomas was gone, professor Paige returned her attention to Newt and her appearance changed from friendly to back to vicious again.

Newt raised his head, his confidence restored, but just as he was about to open his mouth, the scene before him blurred again, everything spiraling out of his reach as familiar ache cut through him before another memory claimed him, even faster than last time.

He was walking down one of the countless corridors that looked almost identical to each other. It was funny to think how all those years ago this place had seemed so enormous and almost labyrinth-like, but now Newt could have walked blind-folded and still find his way around – well, at least on the sections where the kids were allowed to roam.

It was soon midnight, and he should have been in his dormitory already but once again, Newt had lost the track of time completely while solving the mess that was his current assignment. What he wouldn't give to one day get to know what bugging purpose did all their stupid tests and tasks, which they were put through, serve.

The corridor Newt was currently walking on was lit only dimly, but he could see that one of the many doors lining the walls was slightly ajar; a sliver of bright light shone through the crack to fight the shadows. Newt was about to simply walk past it and be on his way, but then his ears picked up a familiar voice, making him halt into a stop in the middle of the corridor. Newt's brow furrowed, and he tried to steel his hearing to make sense of what was going on, but he soon realised he was too far away to make out any words. After a moment of indecision, he silently stepped closer to stand just behind the door, and leaned in.

"..._please_, Ava, there must be _something_ you can do-"

"No, Thomas, there isn't, and you know that all too well yourself. We've been through this countless of times, and you understand the stakes here better than most in this whole organization. You gave us your _word _that you would do anything it takes to-"

"And _you_ gave me _your_ word that you wouldn't hurt them! They are my _friends_, Ava, I can't – I can't do this to them."

A silence ensued, and Newt was holding his breath behind the door. _What the hell is going on here?_

Soon Thomas spoke up again.

"There must be another way. Surely you can pick another group for the Trials-"

"Thomas.. I know how hard this must be for you. But you know there is no going back now. You've seen their results and their potential – they are all special, and vital for the Trials's success. Alby, Winston, Minho, George, Newton, and others – we need them all..."

At the mention of his friends' names as well as his own, Newt's heart skipped a beat, and his brains froze completely, causing him to momentarily zone out of the conversation.

Newt had no idea what professor Paige and Thomas were on about behind the door. He knew that Thomas was sometimes volunteering on some projects WICKED had going on, projects that many of the other kids had no chance to attend to. The talk about trials was no news for Newt, not really, since basically they had been part of a never-ending cycle of tests and examinations since they were small kids.

What worried Newt, and got the hairs on his neck stand up, however, was the raw emotion that cracked Thomas's voice. The boy sounded truly desperate and his pleadings to change whatever plans had been made for these new trials told Newt that this time something was different; something was _wrong_.

Suddenly a door somewhere behind Newt was opened, and he was so startled that he couldn't stop the inevitable momentum that caused his already hunched form to stumble forward. He had been leaning into the door so closely that now as his whole body jumped from fright, he lost his balance and was thrown straight against the surface of the door, slamming it tightly shut. A muffled yelp escaped Newt's lips as he steadied himself by leaning his hands against the door, trying to catch his breath.

"What are you doing up here, boy?" a man's baffled voice demanded behind him.

Newt whirled around, and his gaze fell upon a man dressed in white standing in the now open doorway a few yards to Newt's left. The man was holding his other hand around the side of the door he had just stepped through, seemingly in mid-movement since he had been taken aback by the sudden slam of the door ahead.

Newt panicked. There was no other word for it. He knew Thomas and professor Paige would soon burst out from the room behind his back, and even though deep down he knew it would be no use to run, his legs acted before his mind had caught up.

"Hey! Stop!" the man behind him yelled as Newt sprinted away from the door, running towards the other end of the corridor.

A few seconds later, Newt's ears registered the sound of a door being thrown open, and then professor Paige's strict voice demanded, "What's going on here?"

Newt risked a glance back over his shoulder, and just then Thomas stepped to the corridor, his eyes immediately focusing on Newt, and confusion filled his eyes as he called out Newt's name.

Professor Paige, however, wasn't confused at all. Just as Newt reached the end of the corridor and turned to the next, her voice shouted loud and clear behind Newt.

"Seize him!"

Newt could hear the protests Thomas immediately let out, but the sound of his running feet made it impossible to make out the words anymore.

As he had feared, he didn't get much further until a strong hand seized the back of his shirt and slammed him into the nearest wall. The impact was so strong and immediate that it managed to knock Newt out, and everything went black...

...until suddenly, Newt opened his eyes with an exclamation of pain on his lips as his unfocused gaze fell upon an awfully bright light shining directly into his face.

He tried to raise his arms to cover his burning eyes but it was no use; his arms as well as his legs were tightly seized by unyielding straps against the surface his body lay upon. That didn't stop him from trying to break out with all the strength he had left, ignoring the waves of pain flowing through his entire body and the massive headache pounding inside his skull.

"Let me out, let me out _letmeout_!" Newt screamed, his croaky voice tinged by no small amount of panic, his heart trying to break its way out of his chest.

In his haste to get free, Newt had paid no attention to his surroundings, but suddenly there were voices and movement all around him, unfamiliar to his ears.

"Quickly, he needs a bigger dose-"

"I _told_ you it wouldn't be enough-"

"Shut up, and just fix it!"

"Newton, please calm down! You're in no danger, we're only trying to help you-"

Newt turned his head wildly from side to side, his vision still having trouble to focus on anything as his headache was only getting worse. His muscles stayed taut and trashing, however, and his mind was so, so clouded he couldn't understand the heated conversation around him.

There was a buzzing in his ears and a sudden wave of nausea forced him to rest his head back on the flat pillow underneath and squeeze his eyes momentarily shut.

Suddenly there was a cold grip on his wrist and Newt's eyes flew open, his gaze finally focusing on the blurry figure of a woman wearing white clothes and a facemask, speaking words that Newt's overwhelmed mind failed to register, her tone reassuring. His eyes travelled lower, and Newt felt his stomach drop as his eyes picked the all too familiar symbol and the word "WICKED" printed on the front of the uniform the woman was wearing.

Just as a desperate string of "No"'s slipped past his trembling lips, Newt felt a thick needle pierce the sore skin of his forearm, sinking in, and after a few heartbeats, Newt's eyes fell shut and the chaos inside his skull settled, once and for all.

*.*.*

An undefined amount of time passed. It could have been hours, it could have been days, or weeks even, for all Newt knew.

His hazy mind fluctuated in the sea of thoughts and dreams, nightmares and emptiness, hopes and memories, and there was no telling what was true and what only existed in his head. His moments on the surface, those glimpses of consciousness, were brief and rare, and soon enough the heavy waves pulled him under and emptied his mind again.

Most of those moments when Newt's mind pulled free from the smothering grasp of the various drugs running through his system were over before he could fully comprehend it, and he could never piece together a concrete realisation of what was going on around him. He got only unattached flashes; streaks of pain, steady beeping of some machine beside him, click of a door shutting closed somewhere, shuffling of papers, distant voices, incomprehensible words, the feel of the cloth beneath his fingers. Never did he manage to see the bigger picture, and every time he came close to regaining a memory, it slipped just out of his reach, and then his mind shut down again.

*.*.*

Like a cold morning breeze, a puff of air flew against Newt's face, ruffling his hair just a bit. A door clicked shut in the distance and soft steps shuffled on a tile floor. Newt could feel a faint tingling on the tips of his fingers, and breath flowed easily and steadily in and out of his lungs. He could not open his eyes, however; no matter how hard he willed his eyelids to move, they stayed as if glued together.

Newt could hear voices talking nearby, and he tried to pick up the words to comprehend them, but his brain had hard time obeying his wishes.

Eventually he was able to distinguish a low, male voice from somewhere on his left.

"...no use keeping them like that for much longer. We have to make the decision, and soon."

There was a small pause until someone on Newt's right sighed loudly. Then a woman spoke up, tiredness lacing her tone.

"I know. But I mean, it's not much of a decision, really, or is it? Things have spiralled out of our control. The Trials are nowhere near finished, we simply don't have enough data, and now Group A is falling apart and both Subjects A2 and A5 are useless-"

The words seemed to make no sense to Newt's groggy mind, and it took all his concentration to keep up with the conversation.

"Now, now, let's not go ahead of things. These latest developments have certainly taken us by surprise, but the Patterns they've created may be even more valuable to us than we realise. Let's not lose our hope just yet."

"But we can't just go on from where we left, now can we? We allowed things to go too far, and in the process we have lost a few of our most potential Subjects. If they were to reach full consciousness, they'd most likely remember everything. They simply know too much, that's all there is to it. We just can't go on from this like we did before."

A ghost of a feeling that something important was happening here tugged at Newt's mind, but it was too confusing for him to figure out.

Slow, slightly squeaky steps walked around the room for a good while until the woman finally answered.

"No. We cannot. But nothing prevents us from taking benefit from the Patterns these developments created. I'm just saying, this wasn't all for nothing. In fact, I have a feeling that these Patterns will be quite useful to us in the future. You must remember, we all knew that the Variables weren't set into stone. We were forced to allow room for miscalculations from the start. We simply have to make the best out of this turn of events, and move on."

All this talk about Groups, Subjects, Patterns, and Variables made Newt's heart beat faster in his chest, and he could feel his brain buzzing from the effort of trying to make sense of it all. He felt as if the realisation was just on the tip of his tongue, and he strained his hearing further, willing himself to _understand_...

When the man uttered out his next words, his voice was hesitant, almost sad.

"But is there..any chance..that we could restore-"

"No. In that, I believe we have no choice. Their memories have to be rewiped. We cannot risk the other Subjects nor the Trials..."

Then, finally, the realisation hit Newt.

_They are going to steal my memories. Again._

As if his thought had triggered something inside his mind, the crackled and strained dam that kept all his memories and conscious thoughts at bay was suddenly crashed into pieces and the onslaught of memories flooded his mind like an enormous river flowing over its barriers.

Flashes of himself as a little kid, playing with his dog, eating pancakes with his sister, being kissed on the forehead by his mum before she said goodnight; flashes of a dark-haired boy crouching next to him, smiling his crooked smile at him, introducing him to his friends; flashes of white-clothed people, of needles and questions and tests; flashes of the day when he woke up in the Box without his memories, meeting Alby, Minho, and all his friends at the Glade, trying to find his place in his new home; flashes of fighting and kissing and running and horror and pain and joy and love and oh how it all was so messed up and so confusing in his head, and it hurt- it hurt so bloody much-

"It is such a pity, though. After all the Variables they went through, and the ones they were yet to overcome.."

"Yes, I agree. But as I said, let's not- Wait. Is A5 waking up?"

The machine next to Newt was beeping furiously, and Newt knew something was wrong; his skin felt hot all over, covered in sweat, his heart thumped wildly in his chest, and his breathing grew more and more frantic as his shattered thoughts swirled painfully through his throbbing mind...

"It seems so- look at his charts-"

As the pain increased in every part of his body again, Newt heard as if from far away how more people rushed in through the door and started fussing and talking simultaneously all around him, making it impossible for Newt to keep up with anything, especially since his eyes still wouldn't open. In fact, no part of his body answered his brain's orders as he desperately tried to move. He was glued to the spot, his body unresponsive, as his mind was going overboard inside his skull.

"Damnit, quickly, double his dose! He must be kept sedated until the procedure is done and over with-"

"Hurry up, his body is failing-"

Suddenly a thought surfaced itself through Newt's stormy and pain-filled consciousness.

_Tommy._

_I'm going to lose him._

_Once again, they are going to take him away from me, and there is nothing I can do about it._

His heart breaking in his chest, Newt only vaguely felt the pain as another needle was sunk through his skin, more drugs seeping into his system.

Soon, Newt felt his thoughts starting to scatter further, his mind turning hazy at the edges as darkness threatened to take over.

One more voice got through his haze, making his heart freeze.

"Someone please summon Ava. She'll do what needs to be done."

Then an all-consuming numbness embraced his whole being as the shadows reclaimed him.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: **Happy Valentine's Day to my lovely readers, I hope you've all had a wonderful day today! Here's my present for you, I hope you like it! As always, your reviews make me the happiest and they help me more than you know; all your words are very much appreciated. x

* * *

__You got me shackled in my embrace  
I'm latching on to you__

"...It's been almost 24 hours, Jeff! How come he's not so much as stirred this whole time? And don't tell me you've got no idea what's wrong with him-"

"For shuck's sake, Alby, I _do_ _not _have any idea what could be wrong with him – it's not like I'm a shucking doctor by profession -"

"Well, what use are you then, huh? Tell me, what exactly _have_ you an idea about?"

Newt's fingers twitched. As the two other boys somewhere close to him started to raise their voices, Newt drew in a long, shuddering breath which soon turned into a groan as the movement of his chest stirred a stinging pain on the whole left side of his body.

The quarrel of the other boys ceased, and for a second there was a complete silence until someone croaked, "Newt?"

Newt gruffled in response and coughed a bit, cracking his sleep-swollen eyes open just a bit as he tried to raise his upper body off from the bed.

"What the bloody hell-?" he started with a slightly scratchy voice, but suddenly his words were muffled against someone's shoulder as a broad-shouldered boy lounged towards him to catch him in a tight bear hug.

Pain shot through Newt's shoulder at the force of the other body pushing against him, but he swallowed his grunt, and the boy pulled back quickly, taking the pressing ache away with him.

"Newt, you're alive! Where the hell have you been, you utter piece of klunk! We all worried ourselves sick about you!" he rumbled, eyeing Newt's face scrutinizingly.

"Alby," Newt gazed at his friend and the familiar look of worry etched on his face. Confusion clouded Newt's mind at Alby's words, his eyebrows knitting together as he asked with a weary tone, "What are you-?"

But suddenly, things started rushing back to him like a crushing blow to his stomach, one after another, leaving him gasping for breath.

"Tommy," he whispered, his eyes widening and looking madly around the room. Somewhere in the back of his mind Newt realised that he was actually in his own room in the Homestead, but he pushed back the puzzling thoughts rising inside him as he pushed Alby away with shaking hands and started to get up from the bed.

"Tommy!" he repeated, this time louder and with a slightly broken voice. "Where is he? _Where is he?_"

Alby and Jeff stared at him, stunned at his sudden change of demeanor. Newt stumbled his way out of the bed but his weak legs gave out, and he crashed to the ground before anyone could do anything about it.

Newt cursed in pain and started to get up on his own even though stars danced behind his eyelids, but then Alby and Jeff were kneeling around him, their arms outstretched, and talked over each other.

"Newt!"

"Newt, are you alright?"

Newt panted and leaned forward heavily, grasping Alby's collar, his eyes filled with tears and his voice raspy as he screeched, "Where is Tommy? Is he-?"

Alby took firm hold of Newt's trembling shoulders, looking him straight to the eyes as he said with as calm a voice as he could muster, "Newt, Thomas is alright. We found you yesterday – well, Wes found you first, actually – and-" Sensing Newt's distress and realising that the boy wouldn't be able to calm down before he had further proof, Alby quit his story short with a sigh and said simply, "Thomas is in the next room."

Having finally acquired the information he so desperately needed, Newt bolted straight up from the floor – or at least he tried. His body was in a weak shape, and Newt ended up scrambling up to his feet and falling down immediately with a yelp, but Alby and Jeff were ready this time, and together they held the boy up, their arms strong around Newt's shoulders.

Newt breathed heavily in and out and glanced at his friends briefly, gratitude in his eyes, before he urged them forward to show him the way with a nod of his head. His left shoulder protested painfully as Newt secured his arm around Jeff's shoulders, but he really needed the support to stay upright, so he pushed the ache to the back of his mind and kept going.

Arriving at the corridor, Newt noticed that the door ahead was slightly ajar. From the crack he could see a bed in the corner of the room as well as the back of a boy sitting on a chair next to the bed, blocking the view.

Newt picked up his pace, forcing Alby and Jeff to follow his haste as he kicked in the door to the room, startling Clint who was leaning on his knees beside the bed and sending the poor boy almost falling out of his chair, as well as Chuck who yelped in surprise but then shouted happily, "Newt, you're awake!"

Newt, however, registered none of these things happening around him as Clint finally stepped away and allowed him a clear view to the bed, causing Newt to momentarily freeze.

The sight before him made the tears pooling in his eyes finally slip down his cheeks. Thomas lay there on the bed, sleeping soundlessly, his chest falling and rising steadily, an array of neatly cleaned cuts and bruises coloring the pale skin of his face. He looked so peaceful and beautiful, resting on the sunlight splaying its warm rays through the opposite wall window, his skin and body wearing marks of violence that made Newt's stomach clench.

"Tommy," Newt breathed, and then he stumbled forward unsteadily, giving Alby and Jeff hard time keeping up with his trembling, surging feet.

His friends released him carefully once they were next to the bed, and Newt sank to sit on the edge of the thin but soft mattress. His eyes roamed over Thomas's face, and his hand cupped his bruised cheek gently while his other hand took hold of Thomas's cool palm, entwining their fingers. Thomas's long and fine-boned fingers rested lifelessly over Newt's knuckles.

"Tommy, it's Newt..I'm right here," Newt whispered, his thumb sweeping gently over Thomas's cheekbone as his fingers pushed into his soft brown locks in a caressing motion.

Thomas stayed completely unresponsive under his touches, his cool breath raising goosebumps on Newt's skin as his trembling fingers outlined Thomas's chapped lips.

All Newt's attention was solely focused on Thomas; the relief caused by the realisation that the dark-haired boy was alive ran through his system in warm surges, but at the same time the confusion as to why Thomas wasn't waking up sent cold drops of dread traveling down his spine, and a hollow ache gnawed at the pit of his stomach.

"Tommy, please wake up," Newt urged, squeezing Thomas's hand desperately.

Someone cleared their throat somewhere behind them.

"Newt? Are you sure you should be up yet? Thomas is-" Alby started hesitantly, but Newt cut him off, raising his voice without removing his gaze from Thomas.

"I'm bloody fine," he snapped, but had to swallow a bit of nausea that threatened to rise up his throat. He drew in a sharp breath and demanded with a stern voice, "Why isn't he waking up?"

Someone, probably Jeff, stepped closer and then answered, "I couldn't tell you what you two have gone through, so I don't exactly know what's wrong with either of you. But seeing that you just woke up on your own and seem to be mostly fine, I'd bet that our Greenie will wake up soon enough, as well. We just have to be patient."

Newt nodded jerkily, but he knew that his heart wouldn't calm down until Thomas actually woke up and Newt could see that he was alright for real.

A silence descended inside the room, broken only by Newt's quiet murmurs to Thomas.

Then Chuck slowly walked back to the other side of Thomas's bed, worrying his lower lip with his teeth as he glanced nervously between Newt and Thomas.

"Newt..What happened to you two?" Chuck asked, his voice unsure.

Newt's jaw clenched as he shook his head, "I don't want to talk about it." His mind was buzzing from worry towards Thomas, and he couldn't possibly think about anything else, not now. The most important thing was that they were back in the Glade now; they were both safe and they were alive, and that was all that mattered to Newt.

_At least it looks like we're both safe and alive. But why isn't he waking up?_

Chuck looked like he wanted to protest, but before he could say anything, Alby growled behind them.

"Newt, come on. You heard Jeff, and I completely agree with him in this matter. All we can do now is just wait for Thomas to wake up, and nothing else. In the mean time, why wouldn't you tell us what's happened?"

Newt closed his eyes and drew in a trembling breath. Through gritted teeth, he firmly stated, "I said, I don't want to talk about it!"

But Alby was having none of it. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Get your head out of your ass and _think_, Newt! Or is it really so hard to see things from any other point of view than your own love-struck, heart-eyed vision?" he shouted, his shoulders heaving from his furious breaths.

At that, Newt whirled around, and his eyes and voice were full of rage and ice as he snarled, "Shut up! You've no idea what you're-" Suddenly Newt's voice broke into a sob, and he quickly turned his head to the side, trying to get his wildly beating heart and irregular breathing back under control.

_You're not going to lose it, you're_ not_ going to lose it..._

Jeff placed a hand on his shoulder, peering down at his face worriedly, but Newt quickly shook his hand away, rising his chin up. "Just leave me the bloody alone. Please."

Jeff looked hesitant, but after Newt sent a murderous glance at his direction, he started to back away, gesturing for the others to do the same. "Let's give them a little time," Newt heard Clint agree as the Med-jacks retreated through the door. Chuck sniffled, but walked away as well. Newt glanced over his shoulder and found Alby still standing in the middle of the room, his fists tightly clenched. Newt was slightly stunned to find tears from his friend's eyes as well, and for a moment it looked like Alby wanted to say something, but then he simply pressed his lips together into a grim line and stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Newt tried to swallow the lump that had been forming on his throat, but it just made his eyes burn more. A flash of guilt twinged somewhere around his chest, but Newt pushed it away and refocused his attention and thoughts back to Thomas who dreamed peacefully beside him.

His head felt like a ticking time bomb. There were paths his thoughts tried to take to understand what had happened, why he was where he was, and how in hell he had got there, but it was all so confusing, his memories and thoughts seemed to somehow mix up and his head started throbbing dreadfully whenever he tried to push in too deep and recall what had really happened.

Somehow, his memories didn't feel quite right; they were blurred and blotchy and outlined with pain, and some of them were fading and disappearing out of his reach before he could even comprehend what was going on.

It wasn't that he didn't want to tell the others what had happened.

It was because he had no shucking idea about it himself.

*.*.*

Focusing on Thomas and waiting for him to wake up was torturous, but it helped to get Newt's mind off things.

Up to a certain point, anyway.

It was only so long he could keep straining his eyes to catch even the tiniest of movements Thomas would make or sweep his fingers gently over Thomas's cuts and bruises, unable to cure them, until he realised there really was _nothing_ he could do to make things better.

That didn't stop him from trying, though.

After an hour or so, Newt could barely keep himself upright, a cold sweat was beading on his forehead, and his stomach churned and growled for food.

He could hear some Gladers talking behind the door, but he couldn't make out the words. After a while, the voices quieted and there were loud steps walking up and down the staircase of the Homestead.

Newt's brow furrowed deeply as he wondered what was going on outside the room.

Then his ears picked up a strange clicking noise accompanied by heavy steps. This combination of voices repeated itself over and over again, and if Newt's hearing wasn't failing him, it sounded as if it was coming upstairs.

There was a knock on the door, and Newt whirled around to face it, his neck cracking painfully.

Just as Newt opened his mouth to say something, the door was opened, and Chuck stepped inside, holding a plate of sandwiches and a bottle of juice in his arms. It was the person behind him, however, that made Newt gasp in shock and forced him to leap up to stand on his trembling legs as an exclaim full of wonder slipped past his lips, "Minho!"

His friend grinned and moved closer, leaning heavily into a walking stick which made a distinct noise when it hit the ground that explained the clicking Newt had heard.

"Hey there, little lion," Minho greeted, and as he stepped into the fading afternoon light of the room, Newt's eyes widened in shock as he took in the boy's condition.

Minho was smiling cheerfully with clipped and swollen lips, a drop of dried blood covering the wide cut on his lower lip, his left eye was almost swollen shut, and his cheeks and arms were covered with nasty-looking gashes and cuts and bruises. Newt dreaded what awful injuries were hidden beneath his layers of clothing. The mere thought of the torture his friend had gone through made his blood run cold in his veins.

"Minho, you're-"

"Yeah, yeah, I look pretty messed up but-" Minho stopped in his tracks as Newt suddenly closed the distance between them and hugged him, trying to be gentle about it. Newt could hear Minho's characteristic, smug grin back on his voice as the boy continued after Newt pulled back, "But you know me. Those shuckfaces ain't getting me down me that easily."

Newt shook his head at Minho's attitude as the boy winked and nudged him softly to his shoulder.

"You should sit down, that ankle of yours doesn't look too good for walking and standing around," Newt noted as he glanced down at Minho's heavily bandaged foot. Minho grunted and glanced at his foot, too. Newt returned to his spot by the bed, absentmindedly entwining his fingers with Thomas's again as he gave the boy a quick look-over before returning his attention back to Minho who was currently settling on the chair beside the bed.

"What the hell were you thinking, stromping up all those steps like that?" Newt asked, giving Minho an apprehending look as the boy hissed in pain while trying to adjust his position to the most comfortable one for himself.

Minho raised his eyebrow and looked at Newt with a slightly judging glint in his eye. "Well, I figured it was time to make a move myself since some stubborn slinthead couldn't drag his puny, apparently healthy ass downstairs and pay his poor, beaten-up friend a visit. Instead that same poor, beaten-up friend was forced to swallow his pride and rise all those dreadful steps up here to welcome that said slinthead back to the land of the living. So, did you hit your head and forget about me, or are you just being a shuckface?" Minho wondered, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Newt's face flushed in embarrassment and he lowered his gaze to his lap. As impossible and unforgivable it sounded, he really had forgotten what had happened to Minho. He had simply assumed the Keeper of the Runners was just doing his usual duty in the Maze and thus Newt hadn't seem him yet.

"I-I'm so sorry, Minho. I swear if I'd been in my right mind I would've -" Newt tried to explain, then sighed. Minho's eyes narrowed in worry. Newt raised his gaze to meet his friend's, giving up. "Truth is, Min,.. I'm a mess," he confessed, turning his head to look at Thomas, his eyes gentle even if they were lined with worry. "And I just can't leave his side. Not until he wakes up, and I see that he's alright."

_And most possibly not even then_, he added inside his mind since Minho didn't need to know everything.

Minho gazed upon his friend pensively, and was just about to say something when he suddenly spotted Chuck at the other side of the bed, fidgeting from foot to foot awkwardly.

Addressing the younger boy, Minho said, "Chuck, why don't you place the food on that table and come back later? We'll keep you updated about Thomas, I promise."

Newt turned to look at Chuck who clearly didn't appreciate Minho's request; the boy's grip tightened around the juice bottle considerably and his cheeks flushed from irritation.

"But I wanna know what-" Chuck protested, but his voice faltered under Minho's stern gaze.

"Later," Minho assured pointedly, and eventually Chuck sighed in defeat, his shoulders slumping.

Newt looked at the visibly disappointed boy in a pitying fashion as Chuck tossed the plate and the bottle to the bedside table before whirling around on his heels and stomping out of the room, closing the door behind him. He was glad to be left alone with Minho, though, since he could sense that the moment of truth had finally arrived, whether he was ready for it or not, and he would much rather face it without constant interruptions from confused and scared Chuck.

"Now," Minho began, his tone anticipatory, "I gather we have some catching up to do. Am I right or am I right?" A smirk spread on his lips, lighting up his face despite his injuries.

Newt took a deep breath, and looked at Minho with a pained expression.

"It's just.. I don't know, Minho. I can't wrap my bloody mind around it. If I even so much as try to piece it all together, there's this piercing ache inside my skull and it drives me bloody nuts, so I keep pushing it out of my mind again, and next time I try to recall it.. Things seem to have changed. It's all so bloody messed up," Newt groaned, tugging his hair with his hand in a frustrated fashion.

Minho reached out to the table, wincing slightly as the movement strained his muscles, and grabbed a sandwich, tossing it to Newt.

"There, eat something first," he urged. "You look like you're going to roll off that bed and die anytime now."

Newt took the sandwich in his hand, glancing at Minho gratefully, and wasted no time as he bit into it, savouring the flavour-rich taste of it like never before.

Before he even realised it, he had wolfed down the whole sandwich and almost bit his own finger in his haste to get a new mouthful of food.

Minho snickered and wordlessly handed out another sandwich alongside with the juice which Newt accepted eagerly.

After taking a swig of the orange juice and a fresh bite of sandwich, his stomach grumbled warningly, and Newt realised it might be a good idea to slow his eating down a bit.

Swallowing carefully, Newt raised his gaze to meet Minho's again. The boy seemed to take this as some kind of a confirmation, and leaned slightly closer before uttering, "So, why don't you start with explaining to me exactly what kind of a demon possessed you and made you walze into the Maze like an utter lunatic, only a few hours before the Doors would close?"

Newt groaned in frustration. "Oh, not you, too! I've had well enough of justifying myself to Alby already-"

"Yes, I imagine you have, but I'm not Alby," Minho pointed out, raising his eyebrow. "So you better start yapping."

Newt growled under his breath, but he knew Minho wouldn't budge. He sighed, and turned his head to look at Thomas's unmoving face. "Isn't it obvious? I couldn't just leave him there. He never would've made it out of there himself, and I couldn't-" The lump in Newt's throat rose up worryingly high, forcing him to pause for a moment. "I _can't_ lose him."

"But he didn't make it out," Minho said, and Newt quickly snapped his head back to stare at him. "Not that day, anyway. Neither of you did. The Doors closed, and you were nowhere to be seen. I was unconscious that whole day, thanks to Med-jacks' drugs, but Alby told me all this later when I woke up. He told me you had asked to keep your rogue rescue mission as a secret in order to make sure no one else would get hurt. People noticed you entered the Maze, but Alby reassured the few curious ones that you would be back soon, that there was nothing to worry. As the time passed, Alby wasn't able to keep his cool all that well anymore, but still he made sure no one else left the Glade that day. The Runners returned in their usual time, and none of them had seen any sight of you or Thomas the whole day. Eventually Alby had to explain it all to the Gladers, and then everyone was losing their shit here, and I doubt that anyone got much sleep that night, except for me, of course," Minho chuckled to himself at this, but seeing as Newt was not a single bit amused, he cleared his throat and continued. "When the morning arrived, an extra set of Runners was sent out to explore the Maze and search for you two, but when the sun started to set, they all returned empty-handed, and that's when everyone lost their last bits of hope. You were as good as dead to all of us. I don't think it needs to be said, but things haven't been too great here lately. Until suddenly, four days after your disappearance, and evident death, if I may add, one of my Runners, Wes, stumbles upon you during his round, and speeds back to the Glade to get backup and drag your unconscious asses here. And then, the next day, you stumble out of your bed and start trashing around like a lunatic. So, I trust you finally see as to why everyone here is just a teeny tiny bit of curious as to how, exactly, are you two still alive after you literally disappeared inside the Maze for _four days_? Not that I'm complaining, shank, not at all. It's good to have you back," Minho concluded with a smirk, gazing at Newt with an expectant look in his eyes.

Newt had listened to Minho's story in various states of shock and astonishment. He was still staring at his friend, his eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open, when Minho suddenly snapped his fingers in front of him, making Newt startle and almost loose his balance.

"Shuck, Minho! Quit with those attempts to try and give me a bloody heart-attack, alright?" Newt snapped, curling his fist around the bed sheet and shaking his head a little, willing his confused mind to connect the dots in his mind.

"Sorry, but I just – Newt, what _happened_ to you? How could you just appear back inside the Maze out of nowhere? Because I swear, the Runners ran through every inch of the Maze over the last few days- oh but wait-" Minho paused as a realisation hit him, his eyes widening as he hurried to pose more and more questions with an excited tone, "did the pattern change somehow? Did the walls move differently? Did you get stuck for a few days until the walls moved again to allow you to break free? Did-"

"Stop it, Minho, please just- stop," Newt pleaded, squeezing his throbbing temple with his fingers.

"Newt, are you alright? What's wrong?" Minho asked, taken aback, reaching out to Newt in worry.

"Yes, it's just – as I said, this all messes up with my head, and if I think too much- shuck, it hurts-" Newt moaned, his head bowed down and his forearm pressed against the mattress next to Thomas's side.

"Alright, just take it easy, okay? I'm sorry, you don't have to do this if you're not ready-" Minho assured him, placing his hand over Newt's knee reassuringly.

But Newt shook his head, drawing in deep breaths to calm himself and his nerves, "No, no, Minho, it's alright. I want to figure this out myself, believe me."

Rising back up slowly, Newt swept a hand over his sweaty forehead. Squeezing his eyes shut, he started talking, forcing the words out of him, "I remember..running into the Maze. I remember finding Thomas where I knew him to be, at the very edge of the Cliff, barely breathing and beaten up to a pulp. He looked awful, Minho, his body was so broken.. I was so scared that we wouldn't be able to make it out in time, not in the condition he was in, but I had to try, we had to _try_... And we made it, we made it halfway there, and it was all going fine, but then.. and it was all _my fault_-" Newt had to clench his teeth firmly together to prevent the tears from falling. He had had enough of tears for a lifetime. The guilt was there, as present as ever, but it was no use crying about it. It didn't change his failure, not one bit.

Swallowing hard, Newt continued with a shaky voice, "I remember the moment I realised I had lead us off the path taking us back to the Glade. I remember the exact moment because right then, the Grievers woke up and screamed, and I knew we were screwed. Because of me, we would never be able to get out. I just knew it. Tommy, he-" Newt had hard time swallowing another rush of emotions trying to drown him. "-he made us try nevertheless, and we did try, but we stood no chance against the Griever. It started hunting us down, and eventually.. eventually it got us. I remember.. I remember the pain, and I remember finally passing out because of it. And then.." Newt's voice quieted down towards the end of his speech until his voice drifted off completely, and his eyes were staring into nothingness.

Minho seemed to be holding his breath, and as it became clear Newt wasn't about to continue his sentence anytime soon, Minho urged him on with a soft encouragement, "And then?"

Newt blinked, once, twice, and sighed deeply. "And then it all goes black. I.. I don't know, or I just can't remember. I've tried probing that particular blank space in my memory, but my headache gets so bad it feels like I'm going mad, so I stopped trying to remember it, and now.. it's just gone. There's just empty blackness, right after that last moment in the Maze when I passed out, up until the moment few hours ago when I woke up here."

There was a long silence, until Minho broke it by whistling low between his teeth. "You're right, this is all so messed up that I'm starting to get a headache myself. Shucking hell," Minho mused, rubbing his non-swollen eye gently. "What I don't get, at all," he continued, staring Newt intently into his eyes, "is how you survived a Griever attack, just like that? Jeff told me you have Griever stings all over your body, but that they are all healing beautifully. No offense, but I'm yet to hear a miracle of a boy who survived the Changing on his own and lived to tell about it," Minho argued, letting his words sink in before raising his eyebrows at Newt expectantly.

Newt's brow furrowed in concentration. "So, you're saying.. Someone helped us?" Newt asked, and suddenly a new, horrible, incomprehensible thought occurred to him, making him gasp.

Minho was nodding along. "And I have a pretty good guess as to who exactly it was," he muttered darkly.

"The Creators," Newt uttered with a shaky voice, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

"Exactly," Minho confirmed.

_This is leading to nowhere. I just have more questions now than when we began._

"But why in bloody hell would the Creators intervene? They must have saved our lives that night – but _why_?" Newt asked, thinking out loud now, the frown on his forehead deepening.

"Who knows? We know nothing about them nor their motives," Minho muttered, and he seemed to be deep in thought. "I wouldn't be so quick to thank them, though. I doubt they merely saved your lives."

Newt looked at his friend, puzzled, so Minho went on to explain further.

"I'm just saying, those bastards are no saints, that's for sure. I bet they did something to you, altered your memories at the very least. Or do you remember something about the Changing? Do you remember anything about your past?"

This thought, this realisation, this _truth _struck Newt hard to the chest, making him grab his stomach in pain.

_They took my memories._

_They gave them back to me, just to take them away again._

_What kind of people do something like this?_

At that moment, Newt couldn't even be grateful for his own life since the feeling of loss, the crushing feeling of losing a collection of his own personal thoughts and memories felt more overpowering than the gift of life he had received.

"No. I don't remember anything apart from my life here in the Glade," Newt replied, deep bitterness lacing his tone.

Minho was quiet for a while, and then he nodded and sighed in disappointment. "That's a pity. I was hoping for an insight so we could finally come up with a nasty payback for the ultimate shuckfaces."

Newt let out a laugh despite himself, and Minho smirked in triumph.

Soon, they both sobered up again, and Minho tapped his fingers rhythmically against his knee.

"Right. I think this is quite enough chit-chat for now. You should get some rest. You truly look like klunk," Minho noted, looking at Newt pointedly.

Newt didn't just look like it; he felt like shit inside and out.

Not having the energy to argue, Newt simply rolled his eyes and turned sideways to face Thomas again, his face softening despite himself.

Minho eyed the pair of them, the smallest of smiles tugging at his lips, until he grabbed his walking stick in his hand firmly, ready to get up.

"Come on, Newt, let's get you to your room-"

Newt's muscles tensed immediately and he threw a dirty look at Minho, "Didn't you hear a bloody word I just said? _I'm not leaving him_," Newt snarled decidedly.

"But you won't get any rest by killing your back and hunching over him like that-" Minho disagreed but his voice faltered as he witnessed Newt making good of his words in front of his eyes.

Newt swung his legs up and gently crawled over Thomas, wincing slightly as his aching muscles were forced to hold his weight momentarily as he curled on his side right next to Thomas, being careful not to crush any part of Thomas's body with his own weight.

Once settled, Newt fisted his hand around the fabric of Thomas's shirt possessively, and glanced back at Minho contentedly.

Minho shook his head in amusement and snorted good-naturedly at the sight of his two friends miraculously stuffed in one too-narrow bed. Just as a witty remark was about to roll off his tongue, Newt narrowed his eyes in such threatening manner that Minho decided to keep his mouth shut, for now.

Smirking, he did a mock-salute and rose up from his chair, groaning in pain. Newt's brow furrowed in worry and he lifted his head from Thomas's chest but Minho quickly gestured with his free arm for him to stay down.

"Don't you worry, I can handle it," Minho assured with a tight smile. "I'll ask Jeff to check on you at some point, yeah?"

Newt nodded gratefully, and watched as Minho turned around and limped heavily to the door, clicking it shut behind him.

After Minho was gone, and he was left alone with Thomas again, Newt slowly lowered his head back to Thomas's chest, listening the steady beats of his heart under his ear. Slowly, he reached out and took Thomas's hand resting on his side and drew it gently forward, placing their entwined fingers next to his lips.

Drawing in the familiar, calming scent of the dark-haired boy, Newt closed his eyes and let his buzzing mind drift off to sleep.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Again, I've totally failed to follow my plans and best intentions and instead I've left you hanging for way too long, and for that I am terribly, truly sorry. The only way I can at least try to make up for it is to post this new chapter now (thinking that better late than never) and inform you that the story truly is coming to its end; this is the last chapter there is and after this one only the epilogue remains to be revealed. I will try my best to get it published during next week, so you really don't have to wait for too long anymore.

Without further ado, enjoy the chapter! x

* * *

__Now I've got you in my space  
I won't let go of you__

Newt's dreams were filled with whispers, blurred faces, and enormous, ivy-filled walls that were closing in around him. He dreamt of running through those endless, dark corridors that were almost identical in their resemblance. In his dream, he was trying to reach the constantly fading ball of light moving far ahead of him, but it just kept disappearing behind the corners ahead. He felt desperate beyond words, and his breath was flowing in and out of his chest in painful, tearing gasps. He knew he couldn't make it much further anymore when suddenly he saw that the corridor he was currently running ended to nothing; only an empty darkness was awaiting him, and he tried to slow down his pace but the emptiness neared him incredibly fast and there was no chance of stopping his momentum which tripped him over the edge and made him fall through the darkness and then down, down, down...

Suddenly Newt landed on a cold, hard surface with a crash, the impact knocking all air out of his lungs and leaving him gasping as his eyes flew open in shock and a deafening yell echoed all around him.

As an afterthought, Newt realised the shout hadn't come out of his own mouth.

There was a tearing, throbbing ache on his left shoulder caused by the forceful collision with the floor. Newt grasped his shoulder and grimaced as he tried to drew some air into his lungs, coughing.

It took a while before Newt could shake his dizziness away and make sense of his surroundings, but soon he realised he had just fallen out of a familiar Homestead bed, and his hammering heart calmed down just a bit.

As Newt gingerly rose to lean on his forearms, there was a low groan and a creak of the bed until a drowsy, slightly cracked voice uttered somewhere above him, "What the hell-?"

Newt's heart thudded painfully hard in his chest as a realisation finally hit him. Faster than a thought, he scrambled up from the floor and a shaky exclamation of utter wonder slipped past his lips as he took in the sight of the sweaty, panting and disheveled dark-haired boy lying on the bed, "Tommy!"

Thomas's confused gaze finally set upon Newt and the boy froze as the frowns and lines on his face were cleared out by disbelief and wonder matching Newt's own.

"Newt?" Thomas croaked out in a barely audible voice, trying to raise his upper body from the bed.

Tears stung Newt's eyes and a broken, disbelieving laugh escaped his lips, and then he surged forward, not caring if he crushed Thomas's chest as he landed on top of him and grabbed his face tenderly between his palms, closing his eyes and claiming his lips with his own.

Thomas gasped against Newt's lips in surprise before he melted in the kiss and his hands grabbed Newt's back, his fingers digging in his soft skin tightly.

The kiss was messy, unbalanced, and fierce, and way too short for Newt's liking since suddenly the door to the room was thrown open and a group of flustered Gladers barged in, lured in by the yells and crashes coming from the room.

The arrival of the other boys made Newt and Thomas both startle and back out of the kiss, their cheeks coloured a bright shade of red.

Everyone was silent for a while, but then Chuck pushed in from behind Alby.

"Thomas, you're awake!" the young boy screeched happily, rushing closer to the bed.

Newt shot Thomas a quick, mildly embarrassed smile and moved aside to sit on the chair next to the bed, but stopped when Thomas grabbed him firmly by the hand. Newt looked at the other boy, surprised, but Thomas just smiled at him crookedly and tugged at his hand. A burst of warmth spreading in his chest, Newt got the hint and sat down on the bed, right next to Thomas.

"Hey, Chuck!" Thomas greeted happily, bumping his fist with Chuck's as the boy got next to him.

There was a whole crowd gathering in the room and behind the door as the word of Thomas's awakening spread quickly through the Homestead. Exclamations of joy and cheers echoed in the small space since everyone was relieved to find Thomas awake and well.

Soon Alby turned to face the crowd, his arms raised, "Now, now, let's give Thomas some space to breathe and recover further. I'm sure you'll all get a chance to chat with him all you like later. For now, just get back to work since it ain't going nowhere. But you can spread word that we'll have a special Bonfire night as soon as these shanks get fully recovered!"

There were more cheers after that, and then most of the boys started piling out of the room. Chuck was the last to leave and wouldn't even have left if Alby hadn't threatened to throw him into the Pit for two days if he stayed. In the end only Alby, Clint, and Jeff stayed inside, facing Thomas and Newt.

"So, Greenie," Alby started with a much more serious tone and stepped closer, pointedly ignoring Newt. "Welcome back. How are you feeling?"

Thomas looked a bit dazed, but then again, it was no wonder considering he had just woken up after getting god-knows-how-many-hours of sleep. Other than that, he seemed to be coping just fine from Newt's point of view even though Newt could sense confusion and bafflement gathering under the surface.

"I'm good," Thomas said, trying to rise up to a sitting position, but the movement made him squeeze his eyes tightly shut and hiss in pain. He shrugged off Newt's worried hands and tried again, this time managing to drag his upper body up so as to lean his back into the wall. "I'm just – rather curious as to why I'm here. How on Earth did you get us out of there?" he wondered, his face troubled as he gestured to Newt and himself, and looked at the Gladers, clearly confused.

"Tommy," Newt asked gently, squeezing his hand and making Thomas to look at him. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Thomas seemed to be slightly taken aback by the question, and his frown deepened, his gaze moving from Newt to stare deep into nothing in particular as he clearly tried to recall his memories. Suddenly, he squeezed his eyes shut again and drew in a sharp breath, raising his free hand to grab at his temple.

Newt inched closer immediately. "Tommy, are you alright?"

Thomas massaged his temple with his fingers and re-opened his eyes, looking apologetically at Newt. "Yeah.. It's- It's just my head. There was this sudden throbbing pain when I tried to think through the fog that seems to be clouding my thoughts right now," Thomas sighed, shaking his head as if to clear some space inside it.

Newt nodded in understanding. "I know how it feels, I went through it myself not too long ago," he said, and then an idea occurred to him. He leaned closer to Thomas and reached around him, secretly enjoying the way Thomas's breath hitched at his closeness, and grabbed a plate of fresh sandwiches and a bottle of juice which someone had brought to the table while they were asleep.

"Here, have some snack. It helps, I promise," Newt assured with a smile, handing out the food.

Thomas grinned gratefully at the sight of food and bit into a sandwich without another word.

The other boys in the room had observed the interaction with differing states of embarrassment, but none of them could hide their amusement as Thomas groaned loudly in appreciation as the flavour-rich taste filled his mouth.

"Oh, man, I never knew food tasted so good! Where's Frypan, I could actually kiss him right now!" Thomas declared ruefully, earning a gentle smack upside the head from Newt.

"Oi, watch your mouth, Greenie!" Newt growled, mock-hurt. He couldn't hold his scowl for long, however, not when Thomas was looking at him from under his eyelashes like that.

Then Alby cleared his throat, bulging his crossed arms uncomfortably. "Whenever you're ready, Thomas, we really would like to hear what you have to say," he said in a tense tone.

Thomas glanced at Alby, his cheeks burning red again, and went on with his eating in quiet.

He munched and swallowed one more huge bite before he set the sandwich aside, taking a long drink from the bottle. Then he cleared his throat, his eyes on his lap.

"The last thing I remember..is getting stuck inside the Maze and fighting the Griever with Newt," Thomas glanced at Newt with a tight, pained expression. "We got hurt pretty bad, and my memories are kind of blotchy and blurred.. The last thing I remember is Newt's voice, calling out my name," Thomas admitted, lost in thought.

Newt's eyes widened at Thomas's confession, and his heart picked up its pace inside his ribcage.

"Interesting," Alby mused after a while, and finally Thomas lifted up his gaze, looking at their Leader.

"This is where you step in and explain to me how you found us, right?" Thomas asked, his tone expectant.

Alby's eyes narrowed as he turned his head slightly to the side and answered, "That's just it, Greenie. We did find you from the Maze, three days after you disappeared." The confused expression on Thomas's face only intensified at these words, but Alby wasn't finished yet. "But I think we all agree that it's quite clear that someone else found you before us, and patched you up pretty well before ditching you back inside the Maze."

Thomas's face paled even further. "What – What do you mean?" he stammered, looking at Newt for confirmation.

Newt's mouth was a grim line as he nodded. "He's right, Tommy. I told Minho everything earlier, and we think..We think it was the Creators who got us out of the Maze and healed us and...messed with our memories, so that we can't remember what really happened out there."

Thomas stared at him, his jaw dropping. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but he was too shocked to get any words out.

"Yes, we've got a nice little bundle of mysteries right here, haven't we?" Alby commented with a thin smile. Newt turned his gaze to him, frowning, and Alby gave him the shortest glance back before continuing, "Yes, Minho explained the situation for the rest of us while you were resting."

Thomas was shaking his head, still having hard time catching up with the news. "But – what happens now? What are we going to do about this?" He looked at Newt first, but as he was met with as blank and confused a stare as his own, he looked at the rest of the boys in the room in hope for an answer.

Alby raised his eyebrows, looking a bit unsure for the first time during the conversation. "I – I'm not sure if there's much we can do about it. The most important thing is that you're both alive and well. It's not like we can actually confront the Creators... Shuck, this is so messed up," Alby murmured, anger in his voice. He sighed deeply. "But we'll have a Gathering soon enough, now that you're both awake. I guess we just have to content feeling grateful, for now."

Thomas visibly recoiled and his spine straightened up, his eyebrows settling in an angry line and Newt just _knew_ what the boy was going to say – and he agreed, strongly – but he also knew it wouldn't do any good to get cross with Alby right now. So he squeezed Thomas's hand, hard, and as the boy turned his head to look at him, an angry retort already forming on his lips, Newt shook his head ever so slightly.

Thomas's eyes twinged with confusion, but he closed his mouth and rounded his shoulders, lowering his gaze to his lap. Newt sighed inwardly. He really didn't feel like fighting, not now.

Suddenly Thomas's jaw clenched again and Newt noticed the way his other fist tightened around the bedsheet.

"Is Ben still around?" the dark-haired boy asked with thinly concealed hatred.

Newt startled, and he could feel his own teeth grinding together tightly as the Builder's face flashed in his mind. He had to admit he hadn't given a single bit of thought for the bastard ever since it all had went down to hell in the Maze. Truth be told, Newt wouldn't have minded in the least if Ben had been scorched out of his memory for good.

Alby looked at Thomas with a surprise matching Newt's own. After the initial surprise, though, Alby's face hardened, and he averted Thomas's gaze as he answered, "No. He was banished the day after you were gone. Not one single Glader opposed, I can assure you."

Thomas nodded approvingly, and Newt noted how his shoulders relaxed at this piece of news. Similarly, he could feel a weight being lifted from his own chest, and he let out a relieved breath.

"What about the others assisting him?" Thomas inquired after a moment of silence.

"We had a Gathering, and the boys involved got the Council convinced that Ben had forced them all into it, and threatened them if they tried to decline. The Council settled on punishing them all with a week in the Pit. We made it clear to them there is no messing with the rules anymore or they, too, will be banished, and without trial," Alby stated with a grave face.

"Good that," Newt said, voicing both his and Thomas's thoughts, judging by the calm nod Thomas gave him.

All of a sudden, Newt felt a surge of gratitude towards Alby. The boy had acted admirably and taken care of the wrongdoers and kept the Glade running even in the middle of all the chaotic events. He felt bad for getting so worked up with his friend earlier, even if his words had truly hurt him.

He looked at Alby now, hoping to meet his gaze, and finally, Alby looked back at him. Newt gave him the smallest of smiles, trying to convey his feelings through his expression.

In the end, Alby seemed to understand. There was a certain pain in his eyes that Newt had become familiar with over the past few weeks, one that Newt hoped would some day fade away. But the shape of Alby's smile was kinder now, and it gave Newt hope and reassured him that things would work out, after all.

After that, Jeff and Clint finally broke out of their reveries they had been in during the whole confusing interaction, and insisted on giving both Newt and Thomas a proper look-over. Both boys glanced at each other and groaned, assuring they were feeling perfectly fine – that there was absolutely no reason to make any fuss – but all their complaints were taken for granted.

After fifteen minutes or so, Newt was nevertheless glad enough to hear that Thomas's remaining injuries were healing fast (_"Incredibly fast, to be honest,"_ as Jeff had put it), as were his own, too.

Newt noticed how quiet and pale Thomas had gotten the longer he spent talking and going over things, and he bet the boy was feeling just as confused and mentally exhausted as he had after he woke up for the first time after the Maze incident. Thus he asked everyone to let them rest after Jeff and Clint were finally done, and the others agreed without much complaint.

When they were finally alone again, Thomas let out a long, tense breath he had been holding, but the pained wrinkle between his eyebrows stayed. Wordlessly, Newt crawled closer and placed his dry lips on Thomas's temple, a gesture which coaxed a smile out of Thomas's lips and made him raise his palm to curve around the nape of Newt's neck, his fingers brushing the blond curls tenderly.

"You okay?" Newt whispered, bringing their foreheads together and letting their breath mingle together.

"Yeah," Thomas murmured, caressing Newt's skin with his fingers. "My head hurts, 's all."

"I know," Newt sighed. "Apparently it's the side effect of having your brain messed up with," he added with a bitter voice.

Thomas was quiet, and after a while Newt pulled back to look at him. The expression he found on Thomas's face was unreadable.

"It's just so wrong, Newt. What they did to us. What they are doing to us this very moment," Thomas said, shaking his head.

Newt stared at him, swallowing thickly through the feelings of hatred and loss pooling in his throat.

"They have no right to decide our fate, and yet they act like they have the only right. It's like they control every little thing in our lives, all the time. They take our memories, they throw us here, inside a Maze full of beasts ready to kill us anytime they desire. Then they suddenly choose to spare us, and send us back here. I'm just sick of all of this, I'm sick of not having control over my own life anymore," Thomas grunted between gritted teeth.

"Aren't we all," Newt murmured, hating to see Thomas so discouraged, and decided to try another approach. "But whatever their twisted reasons are for doing this and bringing us back... There _are_ things that they can't control." Thomas turned to look at him then, his hazel-brown eyes vulnerable and open, and Newt's heart thumped heavily in his chest at that look. He swallowed down the sappy words concerning _feelings_ quickly before his treachorous mouth would betray him, and said instead, "There's bound to be flaws in every system. There's bound to be some things they have overlooked and are unable to predict." There was something about the words he had just said that flickered something in his mind, giving him a feeling there was something familiar there that he had acknowledged without a conscious thought – but the feeling passed, and in the end he continued, "We just have to do what we did before. Fight back and survive. We'll figure this out, Tommy. I'm sure of it."

"You're starting to sound like Minho," Thomas noted with a warm smile that revealed his dimple. "Speaking of whom, where is he? I didn't see him earlier."

With a shaky inhale, Newt realised that Thomas probably had no idea about the suffers Minho had gone through. _How could he since the shuckfaces knocked him out before smuggling him into the Maze?_ Once again, a scorching rage flared up inside him just thinking about Ben and his gang, and he wasn't careful enough to hide his emotions since the smile on Thomas's face dropped as he saw the way Newt's jaw tightened and his eyes hardened.

"Newt, what's happened?" Thomas demanded, leaning closer.

Newt averted his eyes as he carefully answered, "It's – Minho's probably just resting."

"What do you mean, resting? He doesn't do much resting unless he's forced to and-"

"He's...recovering," Newt cut in, and went on quickly before Thomas could interrupt since the boy was already frowning and opening his mouth. "Minho got attacked by Ben and the others, just before they took you into the Maze."

"What!?" Thomas exclaimed, stunned.

"It's true, Tommy. He's in pretty bad shape, but being the stubborn shank that he is, he's already walking on about with his walking stick. But truth is.. he won't be running for a while," Newt explained, finally turning his eyes back to observe Thomas's reaction.

Thomas was quiet, his breath going in and out in audible, raspy puffs. His head was hanging down, his chin almost touching his chest. His hand was limp against Newt's.

Just as Newt raised his other hand to touch Thomas's shoulder reassuringly, Thomas uttered out with a toneless voice, "It's my fault."

Newt groaned in frustration, sweeping his raised hand through his own hair, "Oh come on, Tommy, we've already been through this-"

"No, you don't understand," Thomas interrupted, his voice sounding angrier now, "It's – all of this is my fault. If it wasn't for me, Ben would never had started bossing around like that, he never would've attacked Minho, and he never would've been able to lure you into the Maze and almost made you _die_-"

Newt growled low in his throat and surged forward, fisting his hands in Thomas's collar and pushing his back hard against the headboard of the bed, making the other boy's eyes fly open in surprise and his lips part slightly.

"You listening to me all nice and quiet now, yeah?" Newt snarled, his eyes narrowed. He was seriously getting tired of hearing Thomas blame himself for every lovin' problem on this Earth. "I won't hear another word of you making it all about you, alright? _None of it was your fault._ Ben was a lunatic long before you came here. For one reason or another, he just happened to completely snap after you arrived, but I'm telling you, that slinthead would've made something stupid sooner or later. It's not _your_ fault he decided to take it all out to you."

"So I'm just a victim here, is that what you're saying?" Thomas inquired, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"_Yes_," Newt stressed, but after Thomas gave him his you-gotta-be-kidding-me look, he rolled his eyes and said, "Well, I do admit you attacking Ben was a really stupid move," Newt rolled his eyes at Thomas's scoff at his words, before continuing, "but other than that, I think victim is exactly what you are."

Suddenly Thomas's eyes darkened dangerously, and it made Newt swallow thickly. He opened his mouth, not really knowing what he was going to say next. Newt had just the time to register the way Thomas's gaze lowered to his lips until the dark-haired boy quickly leaned closer and gave his lips a bruising kiss.

Newt gasped against Thomas's dry but burning hot lips as his hands grabbed Thomas's collar tighter and he drew the boy closer, kissing him back in earnest.

Thomas's hands traveled over Newt's back and up his neck, burying themselves into Newt's hair. Newt straddled Thomas's hips, pushing himself closer, but suddenly Thomas jerked under him, a groan of pain escaping his throat. Newt drew his mouth away from Thomas's in panic and jumped to move away, almost falling to the floor.

"Oh, shuck, Tommy I'm so sorry-" Newt stammered, his heart hammering in his chest.

"No, Newt, it's okay-" Thomas assured, but his face was still scrunched up from evident pain, his hand pressed over his abdomen.

"No, I'm sorry- I forgot- Just lie down, okay? I'm gonna-" Newt fussed, his hands shaking as he started to get up from the bed.

"_Newt_," Thomas said, his voice raspy as he grasped Newt's hand in his own. "You're not going anywhere."

Newt stopped, staring at Thomas – his determined, handsome, absolutely lovable face – for a moment until he caved in and sank back into the mattress.

"Don't you dare apologize to me, it was me who started it," Thomas said, raising his palm to cup Newt's cheek tenderly. "We just gotta be a bit careful, I guess," he added, smiling his crooked smile that Newt held so very dear.

Newt nodded in agreement, pushing his head gently against Thomas's hand, causing the boy's smile widen. Then Newt's lips turned to a mischievious grin, and he drawled, "Well, technically, it was me who caused you to start it and-"

Shaking his head in amusement, Thomas pressed his thumb against Newt's lips, effectively quieting him down.

"Let's not get into details, yeah?" Thomas's voice rumbled in his chest as a slow smile crept on his lips. Newt's breath trembled and his eyes fell shut as Thomas slowly moved his thumb on his lips. Thomas let out a low, satisfied chuckle at Newt's reaction before he started lowering himself down on the bed, tugging at Newt with his hands to hint for him to do the same.

Newt opened his eyes and with a smile playing on his lips, he settled down as well, curling his body around Thomas's.

They created a tight bundle of bodies together, and soon Newt couldn't have been able to tell where his own limbs ended and where Thomas's began, so entwined they were in each other.

As Newt nudged his head against Thomas's chest, trying to find a good position, he heard Thomas's already sleepy voice above his head. "Actually, we should go and see how Minho's doing."

Newt moved his hand up and down Thomas's arm in a calming gesture as he whispered, "Later."

He felt Thomas let out a sigh until the boy nodded, his chin touching the top of Newt's head.

Newt closed his eyes and let himself float in the intoxicating feeling of safety and belonging caused by the proximity of the dark-haired boy. Minute by minute, he felt the stress and anxiety leave his body as his muscles relaxed and his body sag further into Thomas, his heart rate settling on a strong, steady rhythm and his breath flowing easily in and out of his lungs.

After some time, Thomas broke the silence with a barely concealed snort. Newt's brow furrowed and he was just about to ask what it was, when Thomas chuckled, amusement clear on his voice as he said, "I can't believe you slept with me in this poor excuse of a bed which is clearly made for one person, and one person only."

Newt recoiled, slightly pissed off at Thomas's amusement. He rose up to lean on one forearm, looking down at Thomas's laughter-lit face.

"Let me tell you, I was sleeping quite comfortably on this very bed until some dumb shank decided to kick me out to the cold floor, screaming like a maniac," Newt pointed out with a mock-scowl on his face which melted immediately as Thomas's smile only widened and the boy took his hand swiftly in his, bringing Newt's knuckles to his lips, kissing them lightly.

"My bad," Thomas mouthed, and Newt shook his head in defeat, unable to suppress his grin.

Leaning his chin on his free hand, Newt turned his head to the side and mused, "I guess I'm stuck with you, then?"

Thomas looked Newt deeply in the eyes as he straightened Newt's hand, moving their palms together before intertwining their fingers and giving Newt's index finger a gentle bite with his teeth.

Newt's chest twinged by surprise, and something else, at the action.

"Yes, you are," Thomas smiled.

Newt hummed in satisfaction, leaning closer inch by inch, witnessing the way Thomas's eyes fluttered close and his lips parted slightly in anticipation.

"I think I could get used to that," Newt breathed, smiled, and sealed Thomas's lips with his own.


	24. The Epilogue

**A/N:** I started planning this fic almost two years ago now and while I always knew I was going to finish it sooner or later, I never would've thought it would take me this long to finally bring my first long piece of writing to an end. But here we are, and I'm so glad I decided to share this story with you. This has been a huge learning process for me and I can't thank you enough for your amazing encouragement and support you've given me during these years. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, it really means more to me than I can ever say.

I hope to return one day with a brand new story, and when that happens I hope I'll see at least some of you around. For now, I hope you have enjoyed Dreaming of You and I'm looking forward hearing your final thoughts about this one. x

* * *

__Loving can heal, loving can mend your soul  
And it's the only thing that I know__

A pleasant, cooling gust of wind travelled through the forest, pushing the blond hair spilling on Newt's forehead upwards. Newt halted his steps and let his gaze sweep over the narrow branches and lush green leaves rustling together high up in the trees as he lifted his face towards the sky, welcoming the fresh air.

The muscles on his arms ached at the weight of the firewood he had been picking and carrying all over the woods, but it was a good, healthy kind of pain.

For once, it felt good to be in control of his own pain. If the ache grew too overwhelming, Newt could just toss the firewood to the ground and sit down for awhile, gathering his strength. Alternatively, he could also keep going and strain his muscles as far as he wished and if he did so, it would be of his own volition, and no one else's. Not this time.

Newt let out a frustrated sigh, angry at himself for letting his thoughts always drift back to the same old, confusing memories. He kicked off a few fallen, crisp leaves on the ground and walked on.

It was good to be finally out of bed and take part in the running of the Glade again, even if it was just collecting firewood at the moment.

Newt certainly wasn't complaining. In fact, he relished in the peace and quiet of the forest. It was a perfect opportunity to escape the lingering, suspicious gazes that were still occassionally thrown in his direction.

It had been about a week since Newt and Thomas woke up in the Glade after the Maze incident. The Gladers had all been relieved and glad to find out they had survived the Maze and were back in one piece. Even Gally, who had been one of the boys helping Ben to kidnap Thomas, had grumbled a low-voiced greeting, _"Welcome back, Newt"_, when he had walked past Newt and Thomas's table while they were eating dinner in the kitchen the other day. For once, there had been no malice in his voice when he had addressed Newt. Newt had wondered quietly inside his mind whether he'd ever heard the Keeper of the Builders sound so meek. Gally had even managed a quick, acknowledging nod for Thomas before he swiftly cleared out of the room.

The cheerfulness caused by Newt and Thomas's return could only last for so long until the Gladers finally got curious enough about what had really happened to the two, and so Alby was forced to organize a Gathering before the others would drive him crazy with their constant questions.

The Gathering had been a rather grim ordeal for them both. This time, the Gathering had been extended to include all of the Gladers which meant it had to be held outdoors since no room in the Homestead could hold over sixty boys comfortably inside its walls. It hadn't been exactly easy for Newt to witness the way the expectant faces of the Gladers turned into those of either bafflement, disbelief or outright suspicion as he and Thomas had patiently explained the little they had figured out about what had happened. By the time they had finished their story, the fact that no one actually had any idea how or why they were still alive finally hit the Gladers, and then all hell had sprung loose as everyone had started talking all at once.

Alby had had real difficulties keeping a decent order as one after another, Keepers and Gladers alike demanded for more details and some had even declared their deep mistrust towards Newt and Thomas. Someone had asked, rather reasonably, how could they trust Newt and Thomas again since there was clear proof that the Creators had intervened in their journey through the Maze, meddled with their brains and then thrown them back into the Glade. Nothing like that had ever happened before, and even to Newt it seemed unlikely that the Creators had done what they had just out of the pure goodness of their hearts. After a moment of ruckus, the same Glader had continued, _"I don't know if I can trust them to be on our side anymore, not after what's happened."_, stunning everyone silent for a while. A sickening feeling had spread on Newt's stomach after the words struck home, making his hands tremble.

Newt had felt Thomas scrambling to his feet next to him, but he had been a step ahead of him; he'd held his hand firmly on Thomas's chest, willing him to keep still, and in the end, Thomas had relaxed his shoulders just a bit, averting his eyes as he relented. Newt had turned to face the crowd of Gladers, each and every one's attention focused solely on him now, and stepped forward as a sudden wave of calm washed over him, smoothing his face down to a neutral expression.

Clearing his throat, he had said, "I understand your worry and your confusion, since they are the same things that cross my own head every bloody minute of every bloody day. I don't know _why_ they let us survive, and why we're back here – and you'd bloody better believe we two," he gestured his hand between himself and Thomas, "are the ones who are the most keen to figure all this shuck business out. I get that things are different now, but all I'm asking – all _we_ are asking, is to give us a chance. It's not us who did this, it's _them_," Newt spat, his hand moving to point to nowhere in particular behind him, behind all of them. He'd steadied his quickened breathing for a minute before continuing, his eyes now narrowed, but determined. "And I won't hear another bloody word about me and Tommy not being on your side. The only side there is, for all of us, is against the Creators. _They_ put us here, stole our memories and took our old lives from us. And I'm not ever going to forget that."

Returning the focus back on the Creators had calmed the situation even if it couldn't erase every doubt from the minds of the hard-luck boys. Newt could only hope that with time they would all come around.

He loathed the Creators more and more after each day that passed. Even if he was feeling like his old self, the knowledge that someone had messed with his brain again did nothing to calm his frayed nerves. The suspicion of the Gladers around him was merely a fuel to the fire that threatened to burn him to the ground at times. Because no matter how much Newt tried to push it to the back of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to reason with himself, he couldn't completely keep out the thoughts of _what if...what if they really _did_ something to us?_

_Would I be able to tell if I was being used somehow?_

_Would I be able to tell if I was...controlled?_

The sound of a twig snapping shook Newt out of his reverie, making him turn around quickly and causing a couple of branches falling down from his lap. His heart started pounding feverishly in his chest, his senses sharpening in seconds.

"Who's there?" Newt demanded with a surprisingly strong voice. He took a step back, his head turning from side to side slowly as he took in his surroundings.

The forest around him was quiet for a while, save for the whoosh of wind in the trees. Then an audible sigh was heard nearby, another twig snapped as someone stepped on it, and the next thing Newt's eyes registered was Thomas stepping out from behind a nearby tree, looking at Newt sheepishly, a blush colouring his cheeks and a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

"It's just me," Thomas said, raising his hands up in a surrendering gesture as he walked closer.

Newt felt a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding leave his lungs as his tense muscles relaxed, and an annoyed look took over his face. "Not. Funny," he declared crossly and threw a small branch at Thomas's chest as the boy got closer.

"Someone's a little jumpy today, huh?" Thomas inquired, his words light but his eyes crinkled with worry. He stepped in closer until the heap of branches blocked his way, and raised his hand up to sweep his thumb gently over the wrinkle between Newt's eyebrows until it smoothened, even if just a little. Newt grumbled but leaned into the touch despite himself, closing his eyes.

"What were you thinking about? I watched you for a while and could tell you were in pretty deep in that pretty blond head of yours," Thomas asked, caressing Newt's cheek.

Newt blinked his eyes open and locked his gaze with Thomas's. He sighed and shook his head slightly, "Nevermind that. It's nothing important."

Thomas looked as if he wanted to argue, but Newt continued before he could, "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were busy with Minho and the Maps."

Thomas pouted his lips and turned his head slightly to the side as he gazed at Newt wonderingly. "I missed you. Minho needed a break. I saw my chance and took it," he finished with a cheeky smirk.

Newt rolled his eyes but couldn't stop a smile slipping to his lips as a burst of warmth exploded in his chest at Thomas's words.

"Of course you did," Newt mused, leaning in and placing his lips on Thomas's on impulse, giving the boy a soft, lingering kiss.

The branches in Newt's lap got crushed between their bodies, and as they parted, Thomas rubbed his belly with a small grimace on his face. "Ouch," he whined.

"Sorry," Newt said apologetically, but the broad smile on his face didn't really match his words.

Thomas had the ability to make things feel inexplicably lighter and brighter. When Newt was with him, he felt like maybe, just maybe, everything would work out in the end, in one way or another.

He reminded Newt that even if they were lost, confused, and out-of-place, they were in all of it _together_.

Newt wasn't paying attention to the way his arms were shaking from the weight of the branches, but apparently, Thomas was. The dark-haired boy laid a warm, steady hand on his arm and asked, "Should we sit down for a while?"

Newt opened his mouth to argue and assure Thomas that he could bloody well handle it, but then he had second thoughts as he realised his win-win situation.

"Yeah, sure," Newt said with a smile.

They walked to a long, thick log lying on the soft and grassy forest floor. Newt let the branches fall into a pile next to the log, and then he sat down next to Thomas, their thighs brushing against each other.

Thomas took Newt's hand in his, scrutinizing the little cuts and fine bones, the long tendons and bitten nails, the bony knuckles and delicate fingers.

"You know I'm going to be a Runner someday," Thomas said with a quiet voice, his eyes on Newt's hand.

The sharp, cold talons of fear clawed at Newt's chest at the very mention of the topic. Newt closed his eyes tightly and drew in a long, sharp breath.

He dreaded nothing more than the day when Thomas would step into the Maze again. Somehow, after all that they had gone through, Thomas hadn't lost his fascination with the Maze. If possible, lately the boy was even more keen on solving it and discovering its secrets.

Newt had hated the place before, but now he feared it like never before. Whatever it was that had really happened inside the Maze was something new and different, something they couldn't possibly prepare for. If they had disappeared inside the Maze once, what would prevent it from happening again?

_And what if next time, there are no survivors?_

Going inside the Maze meant giving up control, now more than ever. And losing control over things was pretty much the worst thing that Newt had ever known.

Even if every cell in Newt's body screamed how dangerous and reckless it was to continue searching the Maze, he also knew how very inevitable it was in every way. The Maze _was_ their only hope to escape this place. They couldn't give up trying to figure it out.

_If only it wouldn't have to involve Thomas._

But of course it did, and Newt knew it. In his heart, he knew that being a Runner was what Thomas was made to do. It was his mission, his true calling. And he would be absolutely brilliant at it.

With Thomas, they might stand a chance.

With Thomas, they might actually someday get out of here.

And no matter how much it hurt, Newt couldn't possibly stand in his way. Not in this.

"I know," Newt answered after a long silence, opening his eyes and sweeping his thumb over Thomas's gentle fingers.

"I know you don't like it – and believe me, I hate to do something you don't approve – but Newt, I _know_ this is the way – if we can find our way out, we can finally get to the Creators, and get our memories back. Also, we get to kick all their asses afterwards. Permanently," Thomas added, as an afterthought, his face a fierce mask of determination.

"Well, you're right there – I don't like it one bit, Tommy," Newt assured, looking at Thomas with pain evident in his eyes. "But I know it has to be done."

Thomas's expression warmed, and he raised his other hand to cup Newt's cheek adoringly, but Newt brushed it off, not having finished, "But you must promise me to be careful. Every second of every minute. And you'll take it _easy_. Starting with Minho, only when he's fully recovered, short trips, nothing too complex. And you promise me to always come back. Don't you dare get lost from me again. Ever."

Thomas looked at him with pure awe and deep emotion in his eyes, for a long time. Then the corner of Thomas's mouth turned upwards just the slightest bit, and he uttered out with a slightly broken voice, "I promise."

"Good that," Newt stated shakily.

Suddenly Newt could feel his eyes moistening, and he quickly blinked his eyes, avoiding Thomas's gaze now.

Soon there was a finger under his chin, gently turning his face towards Thomas again. The expression Newt found from the other boy's face was the most tender look he'd ever seen on any face before. And no matter how unbelievable it was, that gaze was pointed at no other than Newt himself.

"Newt," Thomas breathed, and then Newt couldn't take it anymore, his heart already thrumming in his throat, and he balled his fists to the front of Thomas's shirt and kissed him, trying to convey everything that he felt in that one determined, deep, and devouring kiss.

Thomas's hand was in his hair, combing through his blond curly locks. In one lean movement, Newt straddled Thomas's hips and leaned in, their chests and stomachs rubbing together as they moved to balance themselves, their lips hot and slick with saliva as they devoured each other.

Just as it was starting to get a bit too much, a bit too _bloody amazing_, for Newt to handle, Newt pulled slightly away and tried to catch his breath, knocking their foreheads softly together as his arms circled Thomas's shoulders in a light embrace.

Thomas tried to catch his lips again, and Newt let out a sound of complaint, but melted in for another breathtaking kiss before he pulled away even further, now speaking before it was too late, "Tommy, you _do_ realise we're in the middle of a bloody forest where anyone could walk in at any time?"

"Anyone could walk in anywhere at any time, anyway," Thomas pointed out with a raspy voice, his lips searching for Newt's again.

_You have a point there._

Newt could feel his resistance starting to crumble as Thomas's lips descended on his jaw, mouthing their way down his throat and sucking the sensitive skin there, making Newt moan and gasp in turns.

"Shh," Thomas shushed, his voice vibrating against Newt's skin, "let's keep quiet, yeah?"

Newt hummed in appreciation, tilting his head back as his eyes closed shut, finally giving in. Thomas lowered his head to his chest, dragging the collar of Newt's shirt down, and kissed his collarbones, nipping them with his teeth, making Newt whimper in spite of himself.

Newt's hands traveled up and down Thomas's chest before he slipped his eager fingers beneath the hem of his shirt. He let his fingers explore the hot, smooth skin for a good while before he settled them firmly on Thomas's waist as he simultaneously moved against him in a slow, grinding motion, making Thomas let out a stifled moan.

Newt chuckled, pleased, and continued the moves of his hips as he took in the open-mouthed, heavy-breathing dark-haired boy who was currently curling his arm around Newt's back and gazing at him with such lust and wonder in his eyes that it made Newt's stomach drop.

Lowering his eyes to Thomas's swollen, pink lips, Newt leaned in slowly, relishing in the small hitch of breath Thomas let out as Newt got as close as he could without touching, until he gave in and caught Thomas's lips again, bringing his other hand to the back of Thomas's neck.

Distracted by the way Thomas's tongue was tricking his own, Newt barely registered how Thomas's hand lowered on his back, smoothing down his side and stomach, until it finally descended on the bulged front of his trousers, palming him tightly.

A burst of curses left Newt's mouth as he jumped in Thomas's lap, momentarily thrown off the course by the sudden wave of pleasure washing over him.

Thomas nuzzled his nose along Newt's jaw, his breath hot on Newt's neck, and Newt could feel the smirk of his lips against his skin.

As Thomas's fingers started fumbling on the buttons of Newt's trousers, Newt dug his fingernails on the soft skin of Thomas's back, urging him on.

Sometimes, losing control wasn't all that bad.

"_Tommy!_"

Not bad at all.


End file.
